Angel of Music II: A Deal with the Devil and a broken Hallelujah
by SunBathingDragon
Summary: Set between S3 &S4. Chloe goes after Lucifer, a long list of questions rustling in her pocket. She finds him at "their" beach just in time. They have a lot of talking to do, like a LOT; but the sunrise sees the foundation of a growing relationship, built on a deal with the Devil. Warning: Mention of rape/non-con! 9 chapters (finished): I will post one chapter/week on Sundays.
1. Finding Lucifer

**Chapter 1 – Finding Lucifer **

Chloe has made up her mind. If she is honest with herself, she was ready to accept the truth about Lucifer months, even years, ago.

She has to talk to Lucifer, find him, pin him down, question him before he can disappear on her, again! He's likely planning on vanishing. That much had become clear to her when he had flooded the church with this _angelic_ music of his.

So, Chloe will not attend the get-together after Charlotte's funeral. She briefly squeezes Dan's arm while Trixie and Zoé assure her that they'll remain with Dan and support him, and that Trixie is going to stay at Zoé's overnight afterwards in case that dad needs his space.

Chloe smiles fondly at her daughter who seems to know them both so well, these days. Who is growing into an adult at an amazing speed - loving, caring and simply _good_.

Her daughter, who squeezes her hand and holds her heart. "Go find Lucifer, Mommy," Trixie whispers. "I know you want to. And you _should_. He's so afraid. You know that, don't you?" Trixie smiles genuinely at her. Her dark eyes twinkle with a bit of mischief, as if her slow-on-the-uptake mother amuses her to no end.

At her bewildered look, Trixie clarifies. "Lucifer's afraid that you're afraid. Of him, that is..." (the "duh" unspoken). The girl reaches up - she notes that she does not have to stretch that much these days, how fast is her little girl growing? - and pecks her on the cheek.

Trixie whispers into Chloe's ear, sharing a secret. "_He's not a scary devil, mommy, he's a scared devil! Right?_" She giggles at her own joke, "...and don't forget to give Lucifer my package, it's to honour my deal with him. _Please?_ No, mum!" She releases an exasperated huff. "Don't look at me like that! It's completely harmless!" _A deal with the Devil, harmless? _"Ask Lucifer for our deal, he'll explain. And tell him that I adhered to _everything _that he's told me to do." For a brief moment, her girl's face becomes solemn and pensive.

Then her dark eyes start to twinkle, she brightens up again and thrusts a box wrapped in a devil-emoji decorated napkins into Chloe's outstretched hands – or rather, into her puzzled face - _what deal with the Devil, monkey?_ – and off she hops, her springy steps careless, full of brimming energy, a young teen in the making.

Chloe weights the box in her hands. It is not heavy. Another reason to find Lucifer. She thinks she does not need one, but her daughter knows better.

She needs a catalyst. Obviously.

Now Chloe has a delivery to make, her Devil to find and a new reality to face.

The list of questions rustles in her pocket as Chloe enters her car and starts the engine. Question No. #1 on that list being "why me" and all that the question encompasses. But there are much, much more questions, her list of questions to ask Lucifer, Decker-style, is as long as her notepad grew when he'd given her a list of his lovers.

Her very unique way to work through stuff, she thinks: to cling to systematic thinking, analysing, after all logic and reason has exploded into her face. Chloe chuckles at the irony.

She joins the highway that leads to the beach. Their beach.

Chloe guesses she inherited the "systematic thinking thingy" from her dad; the _go-for-it _bravado from her mum. The ingredients that make her a good cop, that urge her forward, now.

_Dad_... Chloe's heart clenches. She may actually see him again, in Heaven... because it actually exists! If she's going there. Lucifer seemed convinced of it, as he'd told her, after Charlotte's death. _Why was he convinced that she would end up in heaven? She has killed in the line of duty, has killed Malcolm... Isn't that a deadly sin? _

Only it doesn't feel like one. _So, what divine entity determines who is going down and who is going up – was it Him? God? Or one of his many, according to Lucifer's words, siblings? Or... Jesus...? Had he been a real person? Had Lucifer known him...? _Question #26 on her list. _How many siblings does Lucifer have, anyway...?_ Question #23.

Neither the internet nor the Bible have been very precise on the whole "what are Angels like", "what can they do", "what do they look like" and "how many Angels are there" topic.

Systematic thinking. Which she has done to _no end _for the last three days, feverishly, head spinning, taking notes, revisiting her very own notes from the beginning of her work with Lucifer; systematically going through all of their cases, wondering how much divine or devilish ingredients they held.

Researching about Christian myths and lore. Shaking her head at all the "thy shalt and shalt nots" and "praise the Lord" archaics, wondering how much of what was written there was (old) man-made, and how much of it was actually... Lucifer's Dad, now that she knew He actually exists.

A long, analytical review of all the situations, funny words, observations and things that _Lucifer the Morningstar_, crazy club owner, playboy extraordinaire, about as mature as a 12-year old and by the way Satan himself, had said and done since she knew him.

The analysing has given her considerably more clarity. For one, he obviously never lied to her. For another,

However, with each item resolved, Chloe's long, fat list of questions to ask Lucifer grows and grows. Mysterious puzzles, facts contradicting each other, or missing pieces of her new, raw and suddenly divine reality.

Chloe grips the steering wheel harder. She hates it that this new-found reality is paralyzing her, condemning her to a passive, enduring role - just because she does not _know_ this new reality's rules, settings, framework and destiny. So, she's going to change that!

There is only one way forward. Which means overriding her insecurities around Lucifer, her friend she has fallen for – _the actual Devil_ \- and, most likely, also to overcome _his_. "_Not a scary devil, a scared devil_" Trixie's voice sings in hear ear.

Chloe clenches her jaw tightly, her car swerving now into the smaller lane that heads out of the city, towards the coastline.

To find Lucifer, the real him. To get answers. Finally.

She feels that she has to hurry before it's too late, before Lucifer runs and, likely, never returns. Her heart starts to race at the mere thought of losing him for good. She does not want to examine _why _the thought nearly kills her.

Chloe can feel the little chain with the bullet radiating warmth over her fast beating heart.

The sun sets and the last golden autumnal rays gloss the yellow sand.

Silver cobwebs glitz in the dry marine grasses, swaying gently in the mild ocean breeze. Chloe inhales deeply. She enjoys the taste of salty air on her tongue, filling her lungs. She always has. It calms her. Even after her father's death...

Lucifer's Corvette is not at the parking place, nor does she find another fancy vintage car with an "LM" or "Fall1n1" on its plate. Nevertheless, Chloe knows where she can find him. _Could he have flown here? Now that she knows that her best friend, the Devil, has wings...? _Question No. #6 on her _Special List of Questions to ask the Devil_.

Chloe follows the narrow wooden-plank trail through the sand, up from the parking lot over the rising dunes down to the beach, their beach. It lays there, golden, glossed by the setting sun.

To her right, Chloe passes a group of rowdy teens (young adults?) who occupy a public fireplace. All male, it seems, which she finds unusual. They may be drinking alcohol and smoking something stronger than joints in the public - should she intervene? Whatever they are drinking or doing is quickly hidden as Chloe passes their campsite.

Chloe decides against it. She's not on duty and has a more pressing mission, so she keeps her badge hidden.

A lone seagull screeches as she passes the highest point of the path over the dunes. The sound of the crushing ocean waves holds something eternal, soothing her nerves temporarily. She closes her eyes briefly and inhales, drawing in courage.

Halfway down the dunes, a smaller sandy trail begins. She takes off her boots and enjoys how her bare toes dig into the still-warm sand.

She senses Lucifer's presence before she discovers him. It astonishes her that she does, but she no longer questions her gut feelings when it comes to her unusual partner. Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil. Fallen Angel.

_Whatever_.

She grits her teeth, determined and walks on. She's going to find out and change her own worldview forever in the process.

Chloe recognizes Lucifer's tall, dark silhouette set against the glowing evening sky in a heartbeat, although there is still a quarter of a mile between them. She thinks for a second that she sees the shadow of his wings framing his dark, elegant silhouette from behind. _Somehow_.

Maybe she's starting to see things. She needs more sleep and a less spinning mind, _if you please._ Her heart beats faster as she moves towards him.

Lucifer leans against a large boulder at the foot of the dunes, shoulders tensed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Chloe sees the red dot glow. It reminds her of his hellish eyes and... she remembers his soft lips on hers, now holding the cigarette. _Why on earth does she think about his lips? Pull yourself together, Decker! _

Does the Devil get ill, ever? Can he intoxicate himself with alcohol or smoking or... other... poisons? She remembers that he once survived poisonous gas. And, oh well, his liver usually seems to be a bottomless pit, effortlessly breaking down boatloads of narcotic or alcoholic molecules of each variety humankind has ever invented.

But, there was more, once….

She recalls his "homeless magician" breakdown, when he had tried so hard to get drunk, and then to even get shot; where he appeared drunk from grief and brimming with the desire to be punished himself. The Devil, of all… beings.

_Never letting her in, never explaining himself to her!_

However hard Chloe tries to be there for him. She had felt so hurt and rejected when he'd stated bluntly that she "has never understood and never will", after they had arrested the shooter who was grieving for his dead wife Cassandra.

Now that she knows, she has to seize the chance and understand, she has to! And seize him. Who happens to be Satan, actually. But he's also Lucifer, her weird partner who nicks Monopoly figures and lets her daughter paint his cheek. With an _unicorn_, of all things! And who nicks Dan's pudding. She needs to find him to be able to _recognize _him. Finally.

And then, there's the whole strange vulnerability thing which may be a little bit more literal than Chloe had thought. Question no. #7 on her list.

Chloe feels spinning, light-headed, somehow detached from her body as she nearly jogs through the sand towards Lucifer's lone figure.

She remembers their last time on the beach, bathed in evening light. When she had thought that they could become more than "just friends"...

And then, just after she nearly died, he has fled to Vegas and broken her heart so thoroughly that she thought she'll never recover. Now, she actually has a – _still very vague_ – idea of why he might have had done it. Question #5 on her list.

Coming closer, she can now see him properly. Some of his dark hair has escaped the ever-taming discipline of his hair products, curling across his forehead. She likes it, she really does. Her fingers itch to touch his curls, to sneak around his nape, to frame his face, to feel his stubble under her fingertips. _Down, girl. You came for answers. And he's actually the Devil, what are you thinking?_

Lucifer is deep in thought, or so it seems. She takes in his lean elegant frame against the glowing sky, his strong, masculine jawline and nose, his shadowy stubble and dark hair.

She feels this stupid singing joy inside her heart when she looks at him – _has it always been like this?_

Is it because he's just beautiful, or because he's an Angel? Or is it all part of an elaborate temptation scheme, because he's the Devil? So she'll be damned for feeling... friendship... for... the Devil? She's done a lot of thinking and she's practically certain that all the bullshit of collecting souls or tempting people into sin is just that - vilifying bullshit!

_Or is it just – him and me, _no divine strings attached...?

Chloe wets her lips, nervousness suddenly overwhelming her. She keeps her fidgeting hands steady by clutching the box Trix had given her and carefully steps forwards.


	2. Taming the wild beast

**Chapter 2 – Taming the wild beast**

Chloe's bare feet make no sound as she approaches. Silently, she settles down on the boulder next to him. As if the boulder was his piano bench. A memory stirs.

Lucifer hears her, shifts, makes room for her. Of course he has heard her. _Does he have supernatural hearing or other supernatural senses?_ Question #36 on her list.

He slowly turns his head to face her. His left eyebrow raised. Chloe's heart sinks. His expression is ancient, sad and distant. Alien. His eyes are sunken and resigned. _Goodbye eyes_, she thinks.

The little flicker of astonishment in them, at her appearance, is a bit painful and also foreboding.

He looks fatigued; he does not smile. Instead he sighs and looks back to the wide ocean that glows in the setting sun.

However, he seems to remember their beginnings. "..._bit late for a case, isn't it?_" he murmurs. Flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his red-soled shoe.

It's only half-smoked. A tiny detail Chloe registers. Lucifer obviously still cares for what she likes. Or rather dislikes, like smoking.

"I thought you could use a friend," Chloe hears her own voice respond. She hates how it quivers. She tries to smile like she did ages ago but fails, her smile wobbly around the edges. He scoffs but relaxes a little.

Then he turns towards her with a sudden movement. His eyes on her, thirsty, desperate. Scanning her with a wild kind of _hunger_. He drinks in her features, memorizing.

His gaze is a continuation of the music he has played she notes. A goodbye. Chloe knows that for sure, as if he's spelled it out for her that he is on the brink of bolting.

_Damn_, it's worse than she thought. She should have sought him out earlier! If only... She looks at her trembling hands, willing them to still, because otherwise he will think that she fears him.

She remembers her delivery, clears her throat. "Trixie, ah, well, she asked me to... bring you this." Chloe mumbles and holds out the wrapped gift package to him. He looks at her and the package but does not take it.

"Please." She does not know what she begs for: for him to take the package, or for him to stay and talk to her. She straightens her shoulders, soldiers on, tries to smile and fails miserably. _Get a grip, Decker!_

"You know, Trix has practically _kicked_ me to go and, ah, see you!"

He flinches as if she has hit him and moves away from her, withdraws into himself. _Shit, that was the wrong thing to say!_

A looming turn of tides, a parting of ways. She can feel it coming in the air, tonight.

"No, no, no – I didn't mean it like that, Lucifer! I wanted to come here on my own! I mean... you know... I... I'm confused. I have so many questions, my head is spinning constantly..." she blurts out.

_Shit, shit, shit! This is all going wrong, she'll screw it up, she knew it, she…._

Lucifer sighs a soft, resigned exhale. It sounds heartbreakingly hurt, not his usual dramatic self. He fiddles with his cufflinks, subtly shifts away from her another inch.

He obviously expects the other shoe to drop. That she'll want nothing to do with him, anymore. That she just came to fulfil a duty. _And who can blame him_, she thinks.

He clears his throat, echoing her thoughts, but in reverse. "And who can blame you, Detective." His voice is distant, his body stiff as a plank of wood. "No need to seek out the monster, I assure you."

He turns to face her, caresses her with those damn soft brown eyes of his. The setting sun makes his curling dark hair shine with golden light. _Or does he glow?_

"It speaks for you that you came to find me, good as you are," the softness in his voice, in his eyes, kills her with their final goodbye.

"No need though, Detective. The monster is well acquainted to being on its own. I… I will remove myself from your lives as soon as possible No need to worry..." A fact statement, nothing less.

Chloe feels her heart sink. It pounds painfully in her chest, paralyzing her. This is what he thinks about himself - that he's a monster. After being shut away for millennia in the dark, in Hell, where love is likely non-existent or a weak spot of character at best, where compassion is probably the opposite of what is in his job description; where he was likely not allowed nor able to show it - or had no one to show it to - and where none was shown to him.

For who would have compassion for the Devil, of all... _beings_? A line from Mark Twain springs to her mind, a line she'd come across during her research: "_But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most, our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one…?_"

She now sees the miracle that has happened here: Satan _has _made friends, in LA! Her, Ella, Linda and perhaps even Dan. Friends who care for him as a person.

Lucifer had told her, not so long ago, that he was afraid that if she'd known about him, she would've run away, that he saw himself as a monster. In a macabre echo she hears her own reply "_No you're not - not to me_". Is it still true? She wants to find out… does it still hold? She thinks yes. But how can on earth can she be sure?

Chloe is not naive. She knows that the Devil must have seen and also done unspeakable things. Lucifer _has _tortured people, he has told her so and he does not lie. No, she corrects herself: not people. Souls. Souls who…. _deserve torture_? Do only souls who really deserve it end up in Hell?

One question is nagging in the back of her mind more than any other one regarding the Hell thing: had it made a difference for Lucifer if souls were guilty or not? Has he, Lucifer, been judge and punisher in personal union? Chloe's heart rebels against the thought. Or is there rather some kind of divine or Hogwarts-ish _sorting of souls _when someone dies?

Regardless of all the unresolved questions, her analytical thinking had come up with just one fact, and she clings to it like a lifeline: that _her _Lucifer, the character she knows so well, is as far away from being a power-hungry dick - like Marcus had been - as Maze is away from cooing over newborn puppies.

She has tried to picture him ordering demons around to torture souls or brandishing a whip himself. She only succeeds to conjure such a picture, with the Lucifer she knows, when there is one of two settings in the equation: when a soul either is abhorrently guilty and he loses control as she's seen on cases or, that a soul _feels _guilty and _desires _punishment.

The latter thought has led her down a very dark path regarding the man she knows, _her friend _Lucifer, not "the Devil". Hell must have turned Lucifer's special abilities of drawing out and fulfilling desires horribly against him, converting and reducing him to a punisher.

At least, this is her working hypothesis for now and she longs to explore it - with him. By talking to him.

If only he would let her.

With everything that Lucifer must have done in Hell, will all the monstrosities he has witnessed and likely committed himself, it was nearly a miracle that he had not become completely cynical, cruel or downright evil. Chloe reasoned that celestial beings must be much more emotionally resilient than humans because none of these traits would have survived in a human over millennia (not that they would become that old).

Miraculously, Lucifer has still preserved an infectious, overwhelming _joie de vivre_, including a charming, boyish, well _immature_ sense of humor. He is generous and, at least towards her, often mindful when she expects it least and overprotective like a Mama bear at best when it comes to those he… _loves_. It was as far as it could be from what anyone would attribute to the Devil.

Would she, Chloe Decker, a mere human, be able to help her friend, the Devil who is also a fallen archangel to step out of this millennia-thick abuse of him being the Lord of Hell, torturer and punisher?

_Damn, what is she thinking…?_

Lucifer pauses, then whispers, again mirroring her thoughts. "I know what I am, Detective. You may take the Devil out of Hell, but not Hell out of the Devil." His eyes close in pain. "Although I... for a glorious, brief period of time, working by your side, I thought it... could be... _otherwise_..." He turns his head to look over the ocean, away from her, and presses his face into his hands, rubs his eyes. Then he looks back at her with a soft expression, caressing her face with his eyes.

He gets up, straightens his shoulders as if bracing himself for departure. Her heart breaks with a burst of pain, if for him or for her she doesn't know.

She does not dare move, lest she scares him away. He's not a scary Devil to her, in that moment. More... like a beautiful, mysterious, untamed wild animal. Strong, mighty, but also untrusting, upset and ready to bolt.

Lucifer takes another step, away from the boulder where she sits. He faces her. His eyes caress her longingly, memorizing her. His whispers blend into the evening breeze. "It is better this way, Detective. You'll see once you get rid of me..." he says, convincing her. Convincing himself.

"So you can live a normal live, without... celestial rubbish." His voice rasps like dead leaves rustling. _Me_, he doesn't say.

"Lucifer, please. I... I'd like you to hear me out!" He stills in his movements. A glimmer of hope. Chloe grabs it, she has to.

"Please!" she adds, helplessness flooding her. Then, finally, her gut takes over. Emotions grip her, wring out the words.

"Lucifer, please, _stop!_ You disappeared once from my life, just when I thought we were... when we..." Chloe gulps, "...without an explanation. Nothing. Nada! I didn't even know if you were still _alive_!" Her voice trembles.

"And then you popped back up, _married to a stripper!" _

"Exotic dancer," he murmurs.

"Do you have any idea how much you hurt me, back then? And now, _now_ _you want to disappear on me again?_ Now that I know who you are and finally have the chance to..."

Chloe inhales to continue but Lucifer latches on the only part he understands. Of course he does! The Devil obviously is the master of misunderstanding of all things emotional.

"I... have hurt you...?" Lucifer breathes, taken aback. As if he never realized that he even has _had_ the power to hurt her; that he, Lucifer, could have been _that_ important to her.

It suddenly springs to Chloe's mind that he likely didn't understand what he had done. Because he didn't get it, these emotions. Because he had likely been deprived of any basic compassion, she guesses, just getting the worst humankind had to offer. For millennia.

Because the Devil, a divine being, was seeing a shrink weekly, to try and understand human emotions. And decipher his own.

She recalls how he always identifies with murder victims or (wrongly accused) suspects all the time, during their cases. _He tries hard,_ Chloe thinks feverishly, _he really does!_

Lucifer looks down, his face contorted in a mask of pain. Walls pulled up like a fortress. Again.

"You see, Detective...?" he mumbles softly. "All the more reason for me to disappear from your lives..."

He retreats two more steps. His eyes shine like the stars that appear one by one behind him in the darkening sky. He holds out his hands as if to show her that they're empty and harmless, palms towards her. That he, the Devil, _the monster_, is no threat to her.

"I wish you all the happiness in the world, Detective... _Chloe._ It has been my honour to work by your side over the past year." His eyes caress her and she thinks she's going to die by the wave of love she feels. His eyes start to sparkle, then to glow _golden_ and Chloe is sure that this is not hellfire – it's something else entirely.

Lucifer takes another step backwards, towards the shoreline, he's still facing her. Chloe feels paralyzed, why the heck can't she move a limb? Her heart beats like a drum. _No! He wants to leave me behind for good this time! It cannot be!_

Lucifer continues, resigned but determined. "The FBI investigation into the Sinnerman mess will clear your name, soon - I have no doubt about it, and I've given my statement accordingly. You'll be back at work in no time. They will give you a... a new partner." His voice breaks, the shining golden eyes close in pain.

"I left everything well ordered, so that you do not have to worry for your or Beatrice's future. Lux will be sold within the next week. The auction proceeds will go to a fund that I... I wish to... to place in your hands, Detective, if you'll gracefully accept to be the treasurer. To... to use for _good_ as you see fit. And you should name it. Perhaps, what do you think of... The _John Decker Trust_?" His mouth smiles at her but the smile does not reach his eyes.

Lucifer steps further backwards. A sudden _swooshing _sound, and she knows what it is before she sees his wings unfold. They gleam magnificently under the stars in the spreading darkness.

Chloe has no business being awestruck by divinity. It is now or never!

"NO!" she yells, jumping forward, paralysis be damned! She grabs the lapels of his dress shirt fiercely. "Lucifer, NO!" Chloe rages, shakes him, "_No, no, NO!_"

His eyes go wide at her sudden attack. The golden light in his eyes flickers, swirls, stutters.

"Now that I _know_ who you are, besides being my partner and friend, now that I finally, FINALLY have the chance to understand who you are, discover the _real you_... Don't you _dare_ run on me _again_, Lucifer Morningstar, or I'll _kill _you!" Chloe shakes him vigorously and hits her small fists against his steely chest, hammering the message home. Too baffled to react he lets her, his unblinking eyes go wide in surprise.

"_Don't you DARE RUN ON ME, or FLY, or WHATEVER! Lucifer, STAY!_" She's a trembling bundle of rage, shaking a tall archangel with all she's got.

Lucifer finally blinks, his eyes swirling back to dark brown, completely taken aback. What he thinks is clearly written across his face in capital letters. _Is she mad, have I broken her?_ _Shouldn't she be glad I'm gone? _

Instead, his Detective is standing there in front of him, shaking him, raging at him! His small courageous Detective! Lucifer can even smell her shampoo since her head is so close to his chest. It makes his head spin.

Slowly, slowly, it sinks in.

Lucifer gazes down at her small hands that always seem so tiny on his large tall body, his lips half-opened and at a loss for words.

"Don't you DARE run on me, Lucifer Morningstar!" Chloe's hoarse voice croaks as it declines to a whisper. She pulls him closer with surprising strength, lets her head drop against his warm chest while her arms circle around him, pressing into him. She can feel him trembling. She holds the Devil entrapped, holds on for dear life.

Slowly, oh, so slowly, the Devil's hands come up. Giving her all the chance in the world to back out. He places his them carefully, as if his body could burn her. One around her shoulders, one on the small of her back.

"_Chloe...?_" He whispers. Soft, unbelieving, as if her name opens a new universe to him.

She looks up at him, her eyes spilling over. She does not care nor know if from rage or despair. Lucifer feels her shake her head, to indicate that she can't speak right now, as she buries her head again against his chest. He can sense that his Detective will not let go, that she's determined and intends for him to respect that. By holding on tight, by becoming the Devil's trap.

He heaves a deep breath. There is no fear in her eyes. _No fear of the Devil! _And lucky him - no bouts of divinity-worshipping, either.

The moment stretches into eternity; the universe holds its breath. Lucifer is coming round, she can feel it. Too slow for Chloe's taste. Luckily, she knows how to speak his language by now.

"Lucifer," she says, now gently, lifting her head and releasing his shirt, but laying her small hands flat on his chest in a trusting gesture. She peers up into his stunned eyes and finally succeeds in locking his gaze with hers, "I _desire_ that you hear me out. It is my deepest, darkest desire that you stay and talk to me! That you do not leave, do not run" the small blonde woman smiles at him with trembling lips.

Lucifer's mouth finally closes with a tiny "oh".

"Are...are you sure, Det..._Chloe?_" He breathes; her name a prayer.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life!" Her blue gaze roots him to the spot.

He exhales deeply, tension bleeds out as his body relaxes. She can feel the subtle shift in his chest muscles under her fingertips. It feels like... like heavenly music must sound, to her.

With a quick fluent movement of his shoulders, his glorious white glowing wings vanish. She feels utterly bereft and absolutely glad at the same time.

"Very well, Detective. As you wish."

The wonder in his eyes is her duty.

She takes his hand and leads him back to the large boulder where a forgotten gift box lays in the sand, wrapped in a napkin with Devil emojis.


	3. A Deal with the Devil

**Chapter 3 – A deal with the devil**

They finally settle down in the warm sand at the foot of the boulder, quite civilized, actually, Chloe finds. The crushing waves sound so lovely, a peaceful music.

Lucifer still looks at her as if she has suddenly transformed into a mermaid and has grown flippers. Or sprouted wings. He seems to wait for her to start.

Where should she begin? A softer beginning it is, this time. She hesitates, wants to set the stage for their talk, with maximum honesty and minimum hiding on both sides.

An idea forms in her mind. She clears her throat.

"Now that I know... more... about you", she blinks up at him, trusting, "I also know that you never lied to me." She laughs, a little nervous.

Lucifer nods. "I was always honest with you, Detective, but- " he looks contrite.

"-But you also knew that I did not believe you," She finishes for him, "and you _are_ the master of omission, aren't you?" She smiles at him, still wobbly.

He chuckles as if his foot tests thin ice. Nervous. "Well, you see... _millennia_ of practice with evasion, Detective," he supplies.

She clears her throat. _Millennia, right_.

"You know what I did, over the last few days? After I asked you for some space...?" Chloe feels his body tense and gives him a reassuring smile. "I finally, finally did my bloody homework!" She notes that it feels good to curse, _it bloody does!_ She grins at herself.

"I finally did what I should have done, well, continued ages ago, at the beginning of our partnership! If there's one thing I blame myself for, it's that I was such a crappy detective when it came to your... _otherworldliness_. Your... _Luciferness_! It's been staring me in the face, all the time, again and again, and I explained _everything_ away with made up stories and deductions!"

"Don't blame yourself, Detective!" Lucifer interjects immediately. "As you said, I'm the master of evasion! Omitting Divine facts is sadly a well-practiced habit that I have optimized over the millennia. Each time that I have visited earth and humanity (she files that information away) I have gotten better at it. I'm the one to blame here, Detective, not you!" He sounds guilt-ridden, again.

"I...I should have told you a long time ago..." he stirs and fidgets, but Chloe presses her hands on his fingers to still them. She shakes her head and smiles at him.

They listen to the waves for a few moments. Finally, Lucifer speaks again. "So, what did you do for homework then?" Before she can respond he adds, "and I'd like to hear about the stories you made up for yourself, at some point," he smirks, then adds in a haste, "if you'd like to share them, that is."

She chuckles to reassure him. "I will, if you promise not to laugh at me!"

Lucifer's smile is soft and gentle and her heart sings. "I- I promise, Detective."

Chloe moves her body to find a more comfortable position. A piece of the boulder pokes into her back.

"You know, I literally went through _everything _I could remember that you ever said and did. From stripping naked and trying to seduce me, to all the occasions where you displayed... ah, inhuman traits. Your physical strength. Your desire mojo, when you drew confessions or desires out of suspects or normal people... anyone but me. How women... and men seem to fall under your charms if you... whatever exactly it is that you do. Well, I had a lot to think about. Down to you saving my life, and Trixie's... repeatedly. I've consulted with Linda, but she said that it is up to you to fill in the details." Lucifer shifts uneasily in the sand besides her.

"So, my homework." She chuckles nervously. "It's a list of questions to ask you... to help me... to shatter and readjust my worldview. Which you so kindly and profoundly upended," she tells him.

"Detective, I... never meant to..." His whole body is stiff again. Chloe sighs inwardly and berates herself. _Scared devil, not scary devil_, her daughter's voice sings in her ear.

"I know you didn't mean to, right? Lucifer, I know..." she soothes. She moves a bit closer to him. He radiates warmth, and she shivers... like, from the cold. Just the cold night breeze. What else could it be?

"Lucifer, I don't blame you, so don't you go and blame yourself. Not only did you never _intend _to scare or hurt me, I'm sure of that by now. You... _saved_ me," Chloe breathes, noticing herself for the first time how much she is in awe about the fact. And she has barely touched the surface.

"Again and again! From Marcus. The _BASTARD_!" Chloe's voice grows fierce. Funnily, she feels Lucifer's body relax with her outburst: "The bloody bastard!" she repeats with gusto, "His "_finish it!_" will ring in my ears until I die! Was he really Cain, from the bible, as you said...? Anyway!" She tries and calms herself down. She's not going to go down into that particular rabbit hole, she'll safe that for later.

"You, the... Devil... saved me! And you saved me from the poison. I don't know how, yet. But you did, didn't you? And - _Malcolm...?_" Chloe probes, still raw with emotions.

"I... did... ah, all that, yes," he admits, as if it's hard on him. His chest heaves. He regards her with caution, body still tense. As if she's a bomb that is going to explode in his face.

Her heart clenches, her hands itch to grip him and shake him (again). _What have you endured, Lucifer? What are you still hiding? How, for his Dad's sake, can I get you to open up?_

Her vague idea merges into a plan. She clears her throat.

"Lucifer, look at me", Chloe's clear blue eyes shine into his uneasy, scared ones with all the sincerity and... _whatever it is_... she feels about him.

Because her beautiful wild Devil-Animal beast is ready to bolt, to pull up his walls. Again! She has to tear down his walls, once and for all!

"I'm now taking a leaf out of your book. The Devils' book, right?" She gives him the most honest and heartfelt smile she can muster. It seems to work. His eyes widen, his lips curl in surprise.

"The Devil who does not lie. Who... happens to be my best friend... _Lucifer Morningstar_..." Chloe tests his name on her tongue, now that she knows what he is.

It is still his name, her friends', not that of the Devil and what he has been made out to be, by human history.

_Who he is, she knows._

The gentle evening breeze blows a strand of dark golden hair across her face. It tickles, but she lets it float. Lucifer cannot, for the life of him, tear his eyes away from her sincere face, the strand of hair. He does not dare tuck it behind her ear. He longs to do it, though. She's light to his darkness.

Chloe clears her throat. "Ok, here's my deal: I take you as an example and promise you to tell you the full truth and nothing but the truth! About my current feelings, my doubts and questions, my state of mind, ok? So that you do not have to guess. No hiding any fears that I may or may not have around you. I will simply _tell_ you, and _ask_ you to explain things to me when I do have fears, or second thoughts. Complete honesty, from my side! When I keep something for me, for the time being, I will tell you and tell you why I need time or thoughts for myself. Complete honesty it is!"

Lucifer blinks, surprised. As if she's grown a second head. A grin spreads across her heart, inwardly.

"So, the truth, and just the truth... so help me the Devil... _right_?" Chloe tries and smiles at him. This time, her smile spreads and does not waver any more.

Her beautiful wild Angel-Devil will take the bait. She can feel it.

"In exchange, I ask you, Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil, to do the same. To tell me what you fear, with me at least. I ask you to be honest with me. That should not be so difficult, should it? Since you do not lie. But I know that sometimes, you evade questions or omit the real truth, likely when it concerns Divine matters... and I guess, in particular when it concerns your own feelings, am I right?"

Lucifer scoffs, but looks at her mesmerized. Completely taken.

"Please, try... not to do that, not to with me. No hiding of Divine affairs. Not anymore. I know that you wanted to protect me, somehow. That you often have a hard time to deal with or name your own feelings. I will never press you for them, I promise. Rather, I want to help you identify them. We... we'll just try and seek a way to explain them to one another, right? Honesty. No lies. No evasions. No more going backwards. _Do we have a deal?_" Chloe holds out her hand.

Chloe looks more beautiful than Lucifer has ever seen her. Radiating inner strength. Lucifer's jaw drops, his lips open. A tiny little "oh" is all he manages.

Then, finally, he slowly nods. "I may regret this... but yes. Yes, we have a deal, Detective" He frowns, then breathes softly, "..._Chloe."_

Her name is like a holy oath on his lips.

Lucifer takes her small hand gently into his large warm palm. To Chloe's surprise, he hesitates briefly, then lifts her hand up, bends over it in a deep bow and reverently touches the back of her hand with his forehead.

There is a kind of electric tickling, only it feels... warm. Pleasant. It spreads into her body via the back of her hand. Did she just imagine it?

She feels an escaped curl tickle the back of her hand as he lifts his head up, again.

Chloe's eyes widen. "This... what you did... it has more..._meaning_, doesn't it?" She whispers.

Lucifer swallows. "It... does," he admits. He sounds strangled, then explains, when he feels her quizzical eyes on him. True to their deal.

"It... is an ancient angelic obedience gesture. Well, not just _servitude _obedience. It is more like... we used it to confirm a request or an order of... of Dad, or of a brother or sister, when we wholeheartedly agreed with it, wanted the same thing. When we were ready to act on it. It is a binding promise." His voice trails off.

Chloe has never seem Lucifer, _Mr-where-I-am-is-the-centre-of-the-universe_, so out of his own shell. He's trying, she notes, trying _hard_. For her.

In the distance, cheering shouts and yells of drunken men briefly drown in the soft crushing of the waves.

It takes Chloe a few seconds to come back to reality and recover from the fact that an Archangel just honoured a pact with her in the same way he did an order of God.

The wind rustles in the grass behind them. A fish breaks the surface and splashes back down. They sit in companionable silence and listen to the waves.

"Why is this... what do you want from me, Detective...? Why... speak to me... at all?" Lucifer murmurs, looking down at his feet.

Chloe remains silent for a moment, sorting through her swirling thoughts and emotions. She clears her throat and begins to explain.

"First, because I finally have the chance to get to know you, the whole you, and nothing but you. And by the life of me, I will not miss my chance!

Second, because the not-knowing, not-understanding your... world, with all these unresolved mysteries and questions, will become my own personal _Hell _if I don't, Lucifer.

Third, you're my best friend, Devil or not. Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"

She gives him a hesitant little smile. "It took me a few days to understand this myself. You see, I am not scared of you, the Devil! Or of your face."

Chloe briefly hesitates, feels obliged. The back of her hand where he has touched her glows warm as if a little sun is shining there. "Well, to be honest, I'm pretty sure that you _would _be able to scare the shit out of me, if you wanted to. I'v got a vague," She chuckles, "idea of what you might have shown all those criminals who suddenly felt the urge to confess and begged to be arrested." She squeezes his arm gently to reaffirm.

"Your face is... a bit unsettling, at first... but I'm sure I'll get used to it, after an adjustment period." She hesitates briefly. "To be completely honest with you, as per our deal, yes, your other face is frightening. And I was shocked at first. To find out that everything you told me is true... but _mostly _because my best friend suddenly... looked like a third-degree burn victim!"

Chloe pokes him into the chest with one finger. "So, if I say I'll need some practice and time, then what I really mean is that I need more information, and the chance to process it - preferably with _you_, Lucifer, and not the Bible, the internet or whatever source I may ask otherwise. Which means that you need to stay, here on Earth, here in LA and, yeah, preferably here and now on this beach and talk to me. Right?"

She cocks her head in typical Chloe fashion, eyebrows raised hopefully. "Please, stay?" Her words root him to the spot. He nods slowly as if he thinks he misheard her. Its barely visible but she gets it. Her smile nearly blinds him.

"So what I need to know first of all: Does it hurt, Lucifer, that … other…. face?" Her voice is soft and concerned, her intense blue gaze is a lifeline to him. How she can ask this, first and foremost, before all other questions is a miracle to him. But then, that is what she is.

"It... it doesn't hurt... _anymore,_" he breathes.

The thought of the raw, flayed flesh of his burned body she's seen causes her to shudder at the word "anymore". She squeezes his arm in a gesture that shows him she's here for him, then settles back. Slowly, his eyes come up and meet hers. His eyes go wide at the compassion he finds there. Not pity. Compassion, and something else he's unable to place.

They share a moment of peaceful silence as the dawn of something new in their relationship slowly sinks in. She doesn't really understand what changed (or understands it all too well) but she doesn't care. She'll throw herself into this, reasons be damned. _Aw! She must stop all these Heaven and Hell puns!_

Chloe tries to catch her floating hair strands, shifting against the uncomfortable boulder backrest.

"You know what has frightened me the most, in the past days, when it came to you...? It was the lack of real understanding, real knowledge. You never let me in on your... secret, your feelings or your sorrows. Although I now understand to some extent why you did that, you have kept me in the dark whenever it came to you."

She pauses, then continues. "I was never able to decide, make up my own mind. There is no choice, no free will without knowing, Lucifer, don't you see? So, please." She inhales and is surprised to hear that her breath wavers, again.

She's gone through a lot, these last few days."Let there be _light_..." Chloe grins at him through tears, chuckles with a little hiccup, "...cheesy, right?" She tells him.

Lucifer snorts, amused. "Ah_, yes_... a bit, perhaps", he gives her a lopsided grin, "to be honest - as per our deal!" They smile into each other's eyes, savouring the moment of shared friendship.

Chloe's deal with the Devil settles, grows, expands. Her hand tingles each time he or she honour their deal with honesty. Their deal expands and grows, creating a fundament of trust, to build upon. The seagulls and the crushing waves weave a peaceful music around them.

Then something dawns on Lucifer.

She can see it in his body language as he turns to her, hear it in his voice. "I, ah," he clears his throat, "I...kept you in the dark to, to protect you, or so I thought until very recently, when Amenadiel's crazy theory proved to be, ah, largely correct as far as I can see. And by doing that, I, ah... took away your free will..." he stammers. Lucifer's eyes suddenly widen, he's horror-struck.

"What do you mean, Lucifer? What did you want to protect me from?"

He mouths wordlessly a few times, making up his mind. He touches his own forehead briefly, swallows. "V-very well, detective, if you must know I'll tell you, as per our deal. You see," he swallows, "my Father… sent Amenadiel to bless your parents so that they could have… _you_". He faces her with an expression like a rabbit before a snake.

She is a bit shocked, but otherwise, she doesn't understand what the issue is. "So…?" She probes. "I bet it happens all the time, with so many people praying for… offspring… right?"

Lucifer scoffs. "No, it bloody doesn't, Detective! It was a bloody exception, just to send you into my… path!" He finishes, somewhat lamely. "Or so I thought until recently…" Then he adds, quieter, "I- I thought that you had no control over your feelings for me, that you had no free will… so, I married Candy to give it back to you."

Chloe stills, then snorts in disbelieve. "Wait, _what?_ Let me get this straight, Lucifer! Your Dad, as in _God _with a capital G_,_ made sure that I, Chloe Decker, existed? Why? To- to use me as a kind of... what, exactly? As a piece of celestial chocolate or, I dunno, an _olive branch_ to offer to his wayward son?"

"Yes... _no!_ I mean, that's not what I thought, back then…." Lucifer sounds sheepishly. Chloe remembers. _Did you know? This whole bloody time, did you know?_ How he had stormed into her bedroom when she'd been poisoned, when her nose wouldn't stop bleeding.

"I thought that my Father _used _you, _manipulated _you into having feelings for me… that He was taking away your free will, Detective. I wanted to give it back to you, give you a choice…." His voice drops to a murmur. "I… I thought that you could not feel, well," he scoffs, "l- love for m- me." He gulps. "After I even told you that… that I'm not worth it." He sounds hesitant, almost shy.

"So you… ran away to Vegas and married Candy? Is _that _why you did it, Lucifer?" Chloe is baffled, and it still upsets her. "I can't believe it! This is so… _you._ And so absolutely not… logical!" she gestures at the whole him, scoffs.

She collects her thoughts for a second.

"Just think of this logical, Lucifer. If I was meant to be there for you, according to a higher plan, _why _did I marry Dan first? _Why _do I have a kid? _Why _didn't I become an 'exotic dancer' instead? The chances of meeting you would have been much larger, wouldn't they? _Why _didn't I fall for you? I found you even _repulsive _at first, I truly did! It only changed gradually when I started to know you better, when I… saw your vulnerabilities, your loyalty, your selflessness when it came to me. Then, and only then, your undeniable attractiveness had a chance to, well, get through to me." She swallows and adds, "To be honest, as per our deal."

When he starts to grin and prepare the predictable quip, Chloe carries on. "_Why_ did I become a mother to Trixie at all? Wouldn't I have been much more attractive for you _without _a child? A terrible, taxing burden?"

She's quite memorized his words from early on, still remembering how they'd irked her. "And you _cannot _tell me that she shouldn't exist, Lucifer!" She admonishes.

The Devil seems at a sudden loss for words and has the decency to face his shoes. "I- I'm actually happy that she- exists."

His sweet little confession hits her square in the gut and takes effectively the air out of her angry balloon.

"I- I only hope you didn't hurt Candy as much as you hurt me with that whole marriage stunt," she adds quitely.

"N-no," Lucifer replies, hesitantly. Still fixed on the "I hurt you" part for sure. She can see his jaw work before he speaks.

_Finally, finally_, she thinks.

"Very well, Detective, in honour of out deal." He sighs and braces himself.

"Candy is actually Candy Fletcher, she owns a Club in Vegas. Only it was drowning in debt when I met her. She- she actually nicked my money and even my ring when I was at her club, drinking myself into oblivion to try and forget about you. We made a deal to help each other out, over a bottle of wine and mint chocolate-crisp ice cream, mind you. I paid the loan shark whom she owed money, so that she could keep her father's club. And she, in return, married me for a short while… also to con my mother, who was residing in the body of Charlotte Richards at the time," he explains.

"If… if it makes you feel better, Detective, I- I still feel for Candy more like… I do for Miss Lopez?" His voice sounds like he's unsure how to describe a feeling like this. "Maybe… like a sister, you might say."

Chloe shakes her head, stunned at the overload of information that threatens to short-circuit her brain. "Your _mother_. Who is she…? A… _Goddess_, then...?"

"Yes, Detective, exactly!" Lucifer beams at her. "The Goddess of all Creation! Underrepresented in the Bible, mind you, they filled that gap by worshipping Maria instead. My mum escaped Hell when I… never mind, that's another story…"

All Chloe can manage is to shake her head. There is so much to discover, _so _much to unravel about the mystery that is Lucifer Morningstar! She feels that she can dedicate her _life _to the task and never see the end of it until her dying day.

"And, what now, Lucifer? Do you still think that your Father brought me into being, like a puppet? Just to be your… what, exactly?" She asks. "What do you think I am?"

Her blue eyes bore into his. She isn't sure about all this divinity stuff. But one thing is crystal clear to her. She is not a puppet. Her choices have been her own, regardless of what Lucifer thinks!

It seems that his thoughts (finally!) follow the same line of evidence. He shifts, pulls in his long legs towards himself and turns to face her. "N-No, I don't think so, anymore…" he admits. "Which means…." he swallows, then stirs.

Lucifer suddenly kneels before Chloe in the sand, facing her. He looks as if someone had clubbed him over the head.

"That is... that is... Now that I'm sure that Dad is _not_ behind it all... I never wanted to... to commit this horrible crime... to you, of all people...Det- _Chloe_," he breathes.

"I- I took away your free will, instead of enabling it…" he whispers.

Frozen in horror.

After all the time together, plus all the analyses of her last few days, she thinks she starts to understand how Lucifer's brain operates. The new revelation rattles her, but add it to the top of the ever-growing pile of The Divine Mountain of Holy Crap she's facing, and you'll just have a larger pile of crap! She's determined to ignore it, for now.

"Whatever you blame yourself for," Chloe says as she props herself up on her own knees in the sand, facing him, "I _don't _blame you. I might still be _mad _at you for all the heartbreak you have caused me, but I don't blame you."

She shakes her head to clear it, to let all these revelations fall in place. "What I know with certainty, knowing the whole _you_," she gestures at him, "that you wanted to somehow… protect me. Stupid idea, by the way, but there you go, you're _Lucifer_. So.

If this is necessary for you to stop blaming yourself, here you go: I forgive you…. And if you desire a penance for what you did, I'd still like some light..." Chloe smiles at him, radiantly.

He thinks that her eyes sparkle in the darkness like stars.

Lucifer trembles, overwhelmed. _Forgiveness… _is not a concept or even an _option _he's familiar with. And never was.

He finally starts to lose control. Little orange glowing sparks run over his cheeks and his hands, illuminating the darkness like dancing fireflies. His eyes sway between golden, red and dark brown (with a streak of the most adorable "puppy dog" in between, Chloe thinks).

No, he is not scary. _Not to her. _

Lucifer, the fallen Archangel, is beautiful like that - his transformation, it feels very _natural_ to her. Now, at least. Because she knows.

She reaches out and pulls him towards her, embracing him as he bows his head. Caressing him, holding him.

She strokes his leathery face, his hairless scalp, his back, with all the tenderness and love she feels for him, as his whole frame shakes without the slightest sound.

_All the world's human PTSD is probably child's play against what he must have seen and endured_, she thinks.

The "why me" still nags at the back of her consciousness, though. Question #1 on her list.

After some time, Lucifer's leathery red-hot skin changes back. Chloe feels his hair again under her fingertips.

It is as delicious, soft and curly as she had thought.

She bows down and kisses it.


	4. Angelic Synesthesia

**Chapter 4 – Angelic Synesthesia**

After some time Lucifer sits up, hesitantly, as if he struggles to break their physical contact but feels obliged to do so. Chloe feels the same, but thank... _whomever_, that there is their deal to honour.

"Should we sit back at the boulder and talk?" She asks him. "That is what I'd desire, if I'm honest. And I- I would like it if you could put your arm around me. If you want to, that is. It feels... good. To be close to you,"

Then she adds, "I...I have to tell you this, Lucifer, as per our deal," she says, "although I'm afraid that you'll turn that into a sexual joke, again" Chloe adds with the air of exasperation, just to help him regain his composure.

She can feel his embarrassment at losing control like that as if he'd spoken out loud.

"It... it feels good for me as well, to- to be _able _to talk to you, finally" Lucifer admits, voice still raw and hoarse. He pauses, then whispers, "_awe-inspiring_, to be honest," he whispers, then clears his throat. "Ah, just to be honest," he adds, reciprocating.

They both move themselves back to the boulder to lean against it. The damn thing has _not _become more comfortable in the meantime.

Chloe shuffles closer and Lucifer puts his right arm around her shoulder. He carefully pulls her closer. "Like this...?" he asks, tentatively, sounding as if he fears that she'll suddenly combust. Or disappear.

"That's perfect!" Chloe's smile is audible in her voice. She snuggles into his side, inhaling his sandalwood-whiskey-_Lucifer_ scent she loves so much. At her small humming noise, the tension bleeds out of Lucifer's body. He sighs in bliss.

"Can I ask you something... about Heaven?" Chloe asks hesitantly, looking up at him. "You... can always tell me if you think that I shouldn't know something, and refuse to answer, ok?"

"Of course you can ask, Detective, we have a deal, don't we?" Lucifer's voice grows steadier, but he still sounds hesitant.

"I ask you to accept warnings, though."

"Uh-huh." She nods. He squares his shoulders. "Ready, then, fire away, Detective. What - what is it that you desire to know?" He sounds hesitant, and she guesses what it is.

"Don't- don't be afraid, Lucifer. Yes, I _do_ want to know what happened to you, at some time in the future. I mean the whole rebellion and fall thing; I want to find out what's just internet rubbish and hear your very own version of it. _All _of it." Chloe turns towards him and presses her palm against his chest, her heart put into her smile to reassure him. "But I want you to tell me when you're ready, not before."

"So, you do want to know where people go when they die?" He asks. "You will see your dad again, since you care about each other, and since he went to heaven." Lucifer smiles at her reassuringly, he seems to be quite familiar with the most burning questions humanity usually has.

His miracle has a different mind, though. "That is good to know!" Chloe sighs, warmth infuses her chest.

_Her Dad!_ His smiling face suddenly pops up before her inner eye, the way he said "come here, monkey" to her, when he extended his arms towards her for a hug. She misses him every day, still, after all this time.

"No, yes, well – _later_. I'd like to know some simple things first, for starters, and mostly things related to you. Your history, your- mh, background. So. _Don't laugh at me, right? _Did- did you always look like you do look here, on Earth? Did you have a... birth, like humans do? I mean, since you have a navel? Or... do you, I mean _Angels_, have other forms that do not look like, er, humans with wings? I guess normal DNA relationships do not exist in Angels, do they? Amenadiel and you look _quite _different," she blurts out, questions no. #19 to 22 flooding to the forefront, unbidden.

To her delight, Lucifer chuckles happily and gives her shoulders even a short squeeze. "You can take the girl out of the detective, but not the detective out of the girl. Good questions, Detective!"

She notes, again, that Lucifer really loves to praise her when he thinks she did something remarkable. Another fact that sets him aside from most, erm, _human men_. Since he is not human, she reminds herself. She needs to find out if it's "something Angel" or a character trait of him - she thinks the latter is true.

"You see, Heaven is Divine Energy where form follows the trinity of function, creation and imagination. I do have many forms and may have even more, had I not fallen." He pauses, considering his next words.

"Recently, I learned... well, it seems that..." Lucifer hesitates, shoots her a short glance to make sure that she's still ok with these revelations, "that angels create their own reality, wherever they are or go, Heaven or Hell," he murmurs. "Amenadiel came up with this stupid theory. It sounded bonkers, but now I think he had a point."

Lucifer shakes his head and clears his throat, then smiles at her. "Believe it or not, Detective, I had a quite different form from this one," he gestures at himself, "when I created the stars and namely your solar system, or the one next to it, Proxima Centauri. As you humans named it."

He chuckles. "It's one of the very few things that the Bible does not totally get wrong. From a human perspective, I might have looked like a fiery interstellar flaming wheel when I ignited proton fusion in this solar systems' host star, Detective".

He sounds reminiscent, like a lover remembering his favourite paramour.

Chloe feels as if she shrinks and becomes a sand grain. She knows Lucifer did not intend for her to feel insignificant, but, she can't help it.

"As for your other questions," Lucifer continues, unaware of her mini-freak-out, "We do not share DNA like you humans do. Rather, we are embodiments of Divine Energy with a Dad-shot of creative diversity, of thoughts that became being. Of form that follows function and purpose. Also, our..." (He uses a word in a different language that sounds like song. Or Elbish, she thinks.) Then he corrects himself. "Ah, _spirit_ _manifestations_ are different. You humans call them something akin auras, but that's just a crude convergence. Over the millennia I have learned that some of you humans can actually see this life-soul energy field that each creature has," Lucifer explains. "Although it is very rare in humans to be able to see it. Probably as rare as being tetra chromate. For you, that is. I'm octo-chromate, by the way," he sidetracks and preens a bit.

"Wait, what?" Chloe blinks. "You mean Auras are a _thing_?" She gapes at Lucifer.

He shrugs and lifts his brows. "Well, yes, they are, Detective. Although I do not know for sure what humans can see, obviously, since I'm not." Human, he doesn't say. But she heard him.

"But Angels can sense... the colours and music of a soul, so to say, living or dead. Some of us can see it anyway, Archangels like me in particular. And the other Angels can see it when they change from the earthly to the infernal plane and watch from there, invisible to human eyes."

Lucifer chuckles. "You know, Detective, Malcolm Graham had a _spectacularly_ dissonant life-energy soul appearance around him, worsening every time I met him. I found it very irritating, even before I learned who he was. In the end, his "light" (Lucifer gestures quotation marks) was a shining cacophony of screeching... _darkness,_" Lucifer states, a matter of fact.

He wrinkles his aquiline nose in disgust at the memory, and Chloe thinks that, perhaps, this Angel perception of the live energy thingy meant that dissonant souls could also _stink_.

Chloe wants to ask a thousand questions, particularly around the Malcolm incident, but hesitates.

It is the very first time that she hears Lucifer refer to himself as an Angel. Well, Archangel. She finds the moment too precious to disturb his opening-up.

His next remark, however, caches her completely off-guard and makes her jaw drop to the floor, literally.

Lucifer sounds awed, soft, tender.

"Your soul is blindingly beautiful, Detective. It has the most diverse yet harmonic swirling colours and music I've _ever_ sensed in a human. Also, it smells beautiful. Like the fresh green in spring, like _Demeter." _

Lucifer smiles fondly at her, his rare soft, boyish smile that he seems to reserve only for her.

Its beauty shines into Chloe's mind like a sunny breeze and she's not sure what she feels. It is like a note reverberating in her heart.

"My...soul..._does_?" Chloe finally manages, clears her throat.

What on _earth_ do you respond when the Devil compliments you on the shininess of your soul...?

"Erm, ah, _thank you...?_" Chloe stammers. Then hesitates. "As per our deal... I need to inform you that I need a minute to digest my mini-freak-out right now..."

Lucifer looks at her again like she might suddenly combust. "Sorry, Detective". He loosens his arm around her to give her space, but Chloe swallows, snuggles closer again and squeezes his hand.

To reassure him or to anchor herself, she does not know.

She composes herself, soldiers on. She's a detective, for heaven's sake! "So, if you can see a soul's... colours, soul music, or aura...?" she tries, "would you say that your perception is a bit like that of a... human person... with _synaesthesia_?"

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. "Is that the thing where a human hears, for example, music and sees colours that are not there, before their inner eye? Is this what synaesthesia means, Detective?"

Chloe nods. "Yeah, something like that. Only that it can be all kinds of connections of human senses. Also seeing colours and hearing chords, with certain chords associated with certain colours. Or seeing numbers as colours. Or having sensory feelings when they hear music. Colours or music translated into smells. The senses in a synesthetic person work closer together than in a normal human. I even had that, a bit, as a child. In fact many... human children do when they're still young, Ella explained that to me. She's also one, though."

"Ms Lopez is synaesthetic?" Lucifer sounds positively surprised, delighted even. "I should have known!" he murmurs, more to himself "What kind of synaesthesia...?"

"Ella's a strong colour synaesthete. She told me that this makes her _excellent _at counting cards. Most of her sensory uptakes, be it smells or numbers or sounds, come with a shining colour attached. Ella is _literally _a bright personality." Chloe chuckles.

"That she is, Detective," he confirms, then, speaking in a low voice as if to himself. "You know, that may be one of the reasons why she's susceptible to seeing my sister!"

"Your _sister_..?"

"Azrael, angel of death and full-blown nerd, or Ms. Lopez' soul sister, you might say... but never mind, it's another story for another time. You may just need a longer list, Detective, right?" They both smile into each other's eyes, remembering the "bigger notepad" case. She'll safe _that _particular rabbit hole also for another date…. it hits too close home.

Instead she tries to distract herself by reminiscing. "I had a best friend in elementary school who had synaesthesia, her name was Marcia. We called her Maya. Only that no teacher knew at the time that something like synesthesia even existed which made her life difficult, in particular since she was of Mexican heritage. Which _should _not play a role, but prejudice was a thing back then, and sadly it still is..." she sighs.

"When asked what 2 plus 3 was, Maya could answer "green!" from the bottom of her heart. Because a 5 was green for her. Of course the teachers made out that she was _stupid_!" Chloe explains, sounding still angry on her friend's behalf.

"Anyway, is it a bit like this, when...Angels can sense a soul, or energy fields or... how did you say it?"

Lucifer considers this for a moment, then nods. "In Enochian, my mother tongue, we called it..." Lucifer repeats the musical sound he made earlier. To Chloe's ears, it sounds a bit like "Vittela-leya-enija" with an infusion of Italian song, beautiful.

Lucifer cocks his head slightly to one side, thinks about her suggestion some more. "Mmmh. Well, yes. Actually, you can describe it best of all that way, Detective", he confirms, then smiles his enthusiastic smile, as if she has solved a complicated murderer-related puzzle for him. "Well done, Detective! Yes, you might say that Angels are complex synesthetic beings – viewed from a human perspective, at least." He grins at her.

"Some particularly strongly so, at least yours truly," Lucifer offers her a little elegant bow, grinning like a cheshire cat while pointing to himself.

Of course! Lucifer, Archangel of Desire, has connected senses of touching, seeing, hearing and feeling and perhaps more – she should have guessed. That reminds her. "By the way, thank you for gifting us with the beautiful music at Charlotte's funeral," she smiles. "It was a bit as if you gave her soul wings… at least, that is what it felt like to me, when we listened to you."

"It was my pleasure, Detective. Daniel told me that this was indeed the intention behind Charlotte's final wish. Not that the Douche knows that Charlotte _knew _that I am the Devil. Well, I was not able to show her my face but just the wings. They obviously had a soothing effect on her disturbed mind and gave her the general idea. But it was Amenadiel who took her soul… well, rest assured that she's in Heaven now and you'll see her again, Detective!"

He sighs. "And yes, that is again another story I'm obliged to tell you, at some point. Seems that there are a lot of things that have piled up, has there?". He looks conrite for just a moment, then brightens up.

"Towards the gift of music or, well, _other _gifts, Detective, you're always more than welcome to enjoy the cornucopia of _all _abilities I have to offer with all of your senses...!"

He waggles his eyebrows, pokes his tongue behind his teeth and preens a bit, the old Lucifer shining through, beneath the wild scared-Devil beast.

She's so glad to have him back! Warmth spreads through her chest.

They smile into each other's eyes while she shakes her head just to adhere to her chosen role as the responsible adult. The lulling sound of the waves washing onto the beach embrace their cocoon of honesty with its slowly, organically growing fundament of mutual trust.

Chloe shifts her weight again, snuggling into Lucifer's side while he pulls her closer. The boulder has not become softer in the meantime, she notes. The list of "questions to ask Lucifer" rustles in her pocket.

"OK, where were we", Chloe continues. "So, let's start at your origins, shall we? Were you born in Heaven? In a way comparable to how humans born here on earth?"

Her mouth falls open as this sends Lucifer into fits of giggling laughter. He slaps his thighs, gapes for air. "And then I went to Angel school? Sorted into angel houses, like, in a Howards in the sky?" Lucifer bends over with laughter. "You're as good as Linda or even _better!_" he snorts.

As much as Chloe loves to hear him laugh, she needs to reprimand him. Luckily, she knows her partner (who just happens to be the Devil) very well by now!

Chloe aims her hand over his knee and grips the two points, left and right on his thigh near the kneecap, where she knows that Lucifer is super-ticklish. Her hand snaps forward and she grips both points, hard.

Lucifer yelps and flinches, caught completely off-guard. "_Argh, Detective!_ What was that for?" he demands, eyeing her fingers warily.

"May I just remind you, _Mylord_, that I cannot know this?" Chloe squints at him, her roguish smile glossing her features with lively beauty.

"Ah, yes, well, erm… right you are..." Lucifer shuffles his long legs and stretches them flat on the ground, arching his kneecaps away from her itchy fingers. She grins at him and lets her hand hover over his knee, satisfied with the outcome of her attack.

"Detective, you made your point quite clear – so thank you, that's enough. I owe you a serious reply then, I assume?" Chloe grins and nods.

Lucifer clears his throat, pulls his long legs inward and puts his arms around them, protective. "Very well. All Angels were formed by Dad and Mum, aka God and the Divine Goddess, from their essence by condensing energy and light and by bringing them into being, by merging their creative and divine powers to create The Spark. To the best of my knowledge, it needs both of them to bring us into existence. Us, as in 'Angels'. It sounds fairly abstract, I know..." He hesitates.

"Uh-huh," Chloe nods, her tone clearly beckoning him to carry on. Encouraged by her undivided attention (and itchy fingers), Lucifer continues.

"So, to answer your question: No, we were not born in the classical human way. Also, we did not have the appearances we have here, on Earth. As I said before, our form follows our purpose and our... _feeling_... towards the _need to shape_ for a certain task in a certain realm."

Lucifer pauses briefly, thinking on how to continue. "So when I come to Earth, I assumed a human form that I find fitting for the purpose. And yes," he anticipates her next question, "it is always the same form. It's quite perfect, don't you think?" Lucifer cocks his head and gestures to himself, up and down, preening.

All Chloe can do is roll her eyes at him, but the warmth that fills her shows on her features.

How much she loves his shenanigans, his vanity even, now that she has nearly lost him! She snuggles closer, then... she lets her hand hover over his knee again, grinning up at him, lifting one eyebrow.

Which brings Lucifer to pick up his storyline immediately.

"Ah, where were we? Human form on the early plane. Hence the navel," Lucifer explains. "It is not a classical human birth mark, but I needed to look like a human in order to inhabit this plane of existence. You are free to inspect my earthly form more closely. From head to toe, Detective, whenever and wherever you want!"

Instead of smirking with glee, though, Lucifer gives her his best hopeful puppy dog look and spreads his arms in surrender, trying to appear serious _and_ cute at the same time, to prevent her next attack on his kneecap.

Chloe decides that now is the point to surprise him. She raises her face, smiles into his eyes. "You know, maybe one day, I will."

Her words hang between them, heavy and sweet.

They earn her a speechless Devil who again regards her, lips slightly parted as if she's the Sun and the stars for him. A shiver runs down Chloe's spine as she fights to pry her eyes loose from his soft, kissable lips. She remembers how they felt the last time when they touched hers... _No, not now!_

A distraction, then. Her list of questions is quite long. She clears her throat. "As I've now seen for myself, you do have wings." Lucifer wants to say something but she signals that she wants to continue.

"No, I do not want to gawk at them, no fear, OMD!"

Lucifer's eyebrows rise. "OMD?" he parrots.

"Oh my Devil", Chloe grins. "As per our honesty deal, I'm far too happy to have you here, with me and to be able to ask you all these questions to diminish that by staring. So, I'm going to save the "my friend the Devil has wings" freak-out for later, shall I?" She gives him a tiny lopsided smile.

Lucifer nods, beaming. Again, Chloe has managed to surprise him. She can see it in his warm brown eyes that regard her proudly.

"So, here is my first wing question: Where do you hide them? You can't tell me that they fit into your suits, somehow. I guess they go to another dimension...? And second wing question." Chloe x-rays him with her gaze, but her voice is a soft whisper.

"You used your wings to save us, didn't you? All the feathers and… the blood… I figured you must've done something like that. It looked like a large white bird exploded and the center was where we stood, without a feather there. Am I right? So, your wings were... strong enough to withstand a hailstorm of bullets fired by automatic rifles, which should be impossible with, say, bird's wings."

Lucifer scoffs at the mere idea of _bird's wings_ and opens his mouth to reply.

Chloe holds up her hand and continues. "But yet, you were vulnerable, weren't you? Because at the moment, the feds are wringing their hands over being unable to identify even the _species_ the blood belongs to!" Chloe smirks.

Then she adds, in a sadder tone, "and poor Ella is going _nuts_ over the blood and feathers, the completely crazy crime scene... She also told me that the feathers give her a kind of _synaesthetic headache_ whenever she had to handle them while processing evidence. She keeps saying they give her a kind of sensory overload."

Lucifer grins at that and nearly misses her last question. Chloe's voice is just a whisper in the night-time breeze.

"The third and most important wing question to me is if you are still injured, Lucifer...? Injured, because of _me_...?" She heaves a sigh. "I haven't been able to get it out of my head since I've put the pieces together!"

Then, louder. "And please, Lucifer, no evasion this time, be honest, we have-"

"A deal, I know, Detective. I honour it, I always do," he says.

"I know", she whispers.

He shifts uncomfortably, as if something more than the boulder is poking into his back. He turns to face her, to impress his words on her. "First of all, don't feel guilty, Detective... _Chloe_. _Never _feel guilty, especially not on my behalf!" Chloe feels herself drown in these dark, ancient, concerned eyes. She nods and leans closer into his warmth.

"Then, towards your other questions. Let's see. For one, my wings are usually hidden in a parallel divine realm. Do you understand what bending the space-time continuum and morphing antimatter into..." Lucifer stops himself, reconsiders. Tries another pathway.

"Angel wings look different in different realities, depending on the form the Angel assumes and the purpose he or she serves in that moment." Chloe files away the confirmation that there are likely female angels. Azrael was the name of one of his sisters, she remembers. Why does the Bible only mention male angels? She has to ask Ella about it!

Lucifer continues. "Angel wings are Dad's tokens of Grace and Divinity, but they are also God-given tools, to be used by us to do what we were created to do by Him." Lucifer grimaces, his disdain evident. "As much as I hate it, it was He who gave us a purpose after creating us. A job, you humans would say. To serve Him in the way He intends us to. To do his bidding." He grimaces in disgust and swallows, hard. Chloe sees his hands clench into fists and reopen several times reflexively.

"Here, on the earthly plane, I can use them for protection, but also for fighting. They're weapons, Detective, if I will them to be, that is. I was able to slice that metal container with them, remember?"

"Anyway. To answer your second questions, yes. Yes, that is what I used them for, when they had us trapped. First to protect us from the shooting, and then to fight Cain's henchmen after I had flown you to safety and out of reach."

Chloe blinks. She will never forget how Lucifer's beautiful face full of anguish had swum into her blurred vision as she slowly regained consciousness. She'll never forget his murmured "_You're safe, that's all that matters_"...

There could not be a sharper contrast to the very last words she's heard from Marcus... Cain. _Finish it!_ Finish their lives - the bastard!

Lucifer continues his lecture, unaware of her sudden reminiscing. "Angel wings likely resemble, by the nature of adapting matter, a form close to that of other beings on the earthly plane who have limbs for traveling the skies. Since they enable me to traverse realms and to... move from one place to another, on Earth or elsewhere. I guess that is why they assume the form of..." Lucifer snorts, indignant as if he's unable to believe it, "something akin to... _bloody_ _birds' wings!_"

Lucifer looks as if he's bitten into a lemon. " I assure you they are _anything_ but bird wings!" She thinks it is funny that he seemingly did not make that connection before.

Angelic pride plus Lucifer-vanity, most likely!

Chloe has to smile and shake her head at his annoyed "cat got wet paws" expression. It is so hundred percent _Lucifer_, she just loves him for it!

Lucifer cannot help himself - he smiles in return, just because _she_ smiles, then he continues his lesson.

"Well, as I said, my angelic wings may have looked more like fiery planet-sized rotating wheels when my task was to ignite the stars, after Mum and Dad had brought this Universe into being," Lucifer supplies nonchalantly.

Chloe gasps as the realization finally hits her that he's literally older than their solar system.

"Are you still ok with all of these... revelations, Detective?" Lucifer asks, slightly alarmed. Of course he has noted her latest mini-freak-out. He seems to note a lot of things when she is concerned, but not always those things she wants him to notice. "You know, Detective, you must be honest with me, as per our..."

Chloe shakes her head and stops him with her hand held up. She cannot say if her aim is to clear her spinning mind or to stop Lucifer from reminding her.

"I know, I know, Lucifer. To be honest, I just have the need to adjust for a second… _so there's that!_" Chloe smiles up at him to show him she's still all right. After a moment and some deep breathing, reality shifts back into place and she nods to him to continue.

"So, you don't deny that you caught a lot of bullets?" Chloe does not add "for me", it hangs heavy between them, unspoken. He has heard it, she's sure. Because he fiddles with his cufflinks and shuffles his legs around, again.

"Tell me, Lucifer," she inquires with her firmest mom voice. "_Are you still injured?_" She raises an eyebrow at him, the reminder of their honesty deal in her piercing blue stare.

Lucifer holds up his hands in surrender. "Ok, ok, I confess, Detective!" He scoffs. "And yes, I'm still healing because... well, as you said, it was a hailstorm of bullets"

"_How many, Lucifer?_"

"Ah, er..." Lucifer straightens his suit jacket unnecessarily, stalls for a moment. He sighs, then, "169," he confesses, "the number is Devil-fitting, don't you think? Linda was so kind as to remove them, I mean those that did not pop out themselves when I started to heal, away from you," he admits, the smirks.

"Imagine it as a kind of emergency room cosplay, with the anaesthetics replaced by sufficient amounts of top-shelf Whiskey and amazing pot to smoke..."

Chloe will not have his deflections, she opens her mouth to scold him. Before she can, he continues hastily.

"Anyway, they are as good as new now, don't you worry, Detective. As you see, I can hide them perfectly, again," he supplies. "Just in time for Charlotte's funeral..."

_And just in time to try and run on me_, she thinks. Then Lucifer stares at her intensely, he obviously has an idea. She's not sure if she should dread it or not.

"You are handling all of this so well, Detective- _Chloe_. You're absolutely exceptional!" he praises. He seems to work up the courage for something, fiddling with his feet in the sand. After a moment of stalling, he blurts out.

"_Wanna have a peek?_ I like them a hell of a lot better since they bloody helped keep you safe. And, you know, one of the sins I'm accused of is _vanity_..." Lucifer cocks his head and winks at her. But his grin is not just that of peacock Lucifer. There is something underneath it. As if he's embarrassed... she cannot really place it.

"Of course I would love to see them again, _without_ the fear of you disappearing on me, Lucifer," she clarifies. "If you are willing to show them to me. But why can I sense that there is something more to your offer... or is it? You need to tell me, we have..." Lucifer's grin morphs into a rather constipated expression. "A deal, yes." He grimaces, then sighs and gives in.

"Very well, Detective. It's the healing process," he admits. "The patches of new skin over the bullet holes (Chloe shudders) and the re-growing feathers and pieces of flesh and bone itch like mad, it _kills_ me! As per our honesty deal - yes, I could _really _use a helping hand, preferably yours." Lucifer tries to scratch his back to demonstrate what he means, and gives her a lopsided grin whilst producing his best puppy dog eyes.

Chloe cannot help herself. Her former mini-freak out is blown away by her heartfelt laughter. Then she smiles at him reassuringly. And a bit in awe, if she's honest.

"It would be my honour to assist you," Chloe imitates his earlier bowing gesture and smiles. "It's the _very least_ I can do after all you have done for me! I... as per our deal, I promise to let you know when I get a Divinity freak-out, all right? And in return, you promise me to tell me, not only what you do like, but also what you don't like re your wings, deal?"

Lucifer hums in agreement and they shake on it. "Deal!"

She hesitates for a moment. "You know, I remember... when I tried to touch your scars... did I hurt you, there...?" Lucifer's grin suggests that he first of all remembers his "naked splendor" surprise for her. But her soft, nearly shy question sobers him up quickly, like the touch of her hand once had. She can't forget how his mood had snapped in the blink of an eye from playful to raw and vulnerable when she'd tried to touch his scars.

"N... No, Detective. You didn't hurt me, back then. It was..." he hesitates, "a completely surreal sensation, you touching me, there... it was as if my wings that I had cut off were suddenly... there again... begging for you to _touch _them," he whispers. "It was simply... _overwhelming_. That's why I asked you to... stop. But now that they are back..." His voice trails away.

Chloe's heart starts to beat faster. She is going to see his wings again, touch them, and scratch them even!

Only a stone would keep their calm, she thinks.

Lucifer gets up, graceful as always. He peers around to make sure that no other humans are anywhere near. Chloe wonders if his eyes and senses are much better than a humans'. Question #11 on her list. Lucifer grins. "No other humans within a peek-a-boo distance of about a mile, Detective, don't you worry," he seems to have read her mind. She mentally puts no. #11 into the "ready for hypothesis confirmation" box.

He holds out his hand to help Chloe to her feet. She feels stiff and clumsy from sitting too long, something that seems not to bother him. He lifts her with such ease that she's reminded of his supernatural strength (question #12 on her list). She needs to ask him about it later.

Lucifer smiles at her reassuringly as he takes some steps backwards, dark eyes twinkling, conveying his joy at her eager expression. It is clear that he needs some space for his enormous wings to unfurl.

The sky has become quite clear - for L.A. that is. The stars behind Lucifer blink and shine with unusual brightness and frame him like a glittery halo. Chloe holds her breath and steels herself.

Suddenly, with a familiar "_swooosh_", large gleaming white wings appear to either side of him, conjured out of thin air.

The sensory overload that follows threatens to swallow her mind and soul like a spring tide tsunami.


	5. The music of the night takes (his) wings

**Chapter 5 – The music of the night takes (his) wings**

Chloe's mouth falls open. _Embarrassing_. She was _so_ determined to keep her composure!

"They're magnificent!" she breathes, "They are..._glowing_...?" she adds in awe.

Lucifer cocks an eyebrow at her, as if he wants to say _really, detective, even you...?_ He glances backwards quickly to peek at his wings, just to make sure. His eyes widen and makes a huffing sound of disbelieve.

"They... do. Indeed. That's _new_..." His voice tells Chloe that this seems to be an unexpected, recent development. He looks utterly confused for a brief moment. "Maybe it is because of you, Detective, because you came for me and I feel… good. Can you please just ignore it, for the moment?" he asks.

It takes her aback - how can he be so nonchalant about parts of his body suddenly looking different? But it fits everything Lucifer has told her so far – that an Angels' consciousness shapes their divine appearance.

"I'll... try to." She breathes, in and out, in and out. "Which is not easy, mind you..."

The Devil smiles reassuringly at her with the tenderness he seems to reserve for her, and for her alone. He holds out his hands in a soothing gesture. _Like an Angel of the Lord announcing divine mysteries_, she thinks.

"You are handling this so well, Detective, you're a-" He pauses abruptly, cutting himself off before his face softens, eyes alight. "You really are a miracle." She can sense that he had expected a completely different line of events regarding her reaction and it saddens her.

Then he takes a tentative step towards her, testing the waters. His glowing, strangely _humming_ feathers quiver in the night breeze and puff up rhythmically as he speaks, which strangely underlines the concern in his voice. "Are you... are you ok, Detective? And tell me, do I have to fear bouts of divine worshipping...?" he probes, eyebrows raised questioningly, his large black eyes stare at her, unblinking.

There is this humming in her ears and a strange, unexpected urge surges through her. She works her jaw, unsure if she'll hear the end of it if she confesses, namely to the Devil that he is.

"To be honest, I felt, for a brief moment the need to..." she stammers, then stops. Her cheeks start to turn red.

"What is it, darling?" Lucifer's velvet voice purrs, but it also holds a shot of anxiety. "Detective, may I remind you that you need to tell me...?"

He takes a tentative step towards her, clearly uneasy now. His glowing wings seem to send sparkles of light in her direction, their soft humming fills her ears like a harmonious bee hive. It is overwhelming and does not help to suppress this stupid _urge_, it really doesn't!

The blush spreads from Chloe's cheeks to her ears; Lucifer can see it in the soft glowing light of his wings and his stars. She feels that _urge _rise like a tidal wave.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Only if you promise not to laugh at me!" she blurts out. But their deal has her trapped. And he knows it, the smug bastard!

Foreseeably, he wiggles his eyebrows. "No, no, no, my dear Detective," he grins, now positively delighted. He's all over the dark, elegant Angel of Desire with these distracting, magnificent wings on full display! She feels her little human heart shiver, all heat pooling in her cheeks, restricting her throat.

"Our deal is honesty, isn't it? So you _must_ tell me... you don't get special conditions!" She finally holds up her hands in surrender. "Ok, ok, I'll tell you, a deal's a deal..."

"Exactly! In particular one with-"

"-_the Devil,_" they say in unison.

Chloe stares at the divine appearance so close to her, at his glowing feathers that move slightly in the gentle night breeze, laid out before the twinkling stars that frame his perfect, masculine handsome face. Plastered with that shit-eating sexy grin, mixed with the tenderness he has just for her. Which is just the icing on the Archangel cake, mind her!

_He's never going to let me live that one down_, she thinks,_ never!_

She sighs deeply. "Ok, fine, honesty it is, it's only fair I guess." She clears her throat. "I felt... the overwhelming urge _to kneel_ before you, Lucifer! To... to _crawl _to you, _hug _your legs and have you _pat my head!_" She hides her face in her hands. 

_God, this is so embarrassing! I'm probably a red traffic light by now! _She hopes the beach is going to swallow her. After a moment she peeks out between her fingers.

Funnily, this is obviously _not_ what Lucifer has expected. He rather seems... taken aback. He even lets her G-word slip.

"Oh, erm, yes, ah, that thing-y..._well_," Lucifer stammers, sheepishly. "Well, if it's any consolation to your pride, Detective, usually all humans would feel the same desire when confronted with divinity for the first time, and maybe just one in a million of them would not give in!"

He scoffs. "Not that I'm keen on it, mind you! I've had enough of that in Hell, thank you very much!"

Vivid pictures of him, sitting tall and dark on a throne looking down on kneeling souls begging to escape punishment suddenly flush her brain. Unwanted and unbidden, they mix with her own stupid desire to kneel before him. She tries to shake both off. _Gross!_

"But, you, detective, you _didn't_ give in!" He beams at her, proud that she resisted and completely unaware of her picturing him as The Mighty Lord of Hell in that very moment.

That's it.

If she'd ever needed a character reference for Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil, it's _this _reaction of his to her confession! He once had told her that "worshipping was more my Dad's jam," she recalls.

Come to think of it, one of the early things that she actually _appreciated _about the dickish playboy club-owner she thought he was, back then, is that he has supported her skills and openly admired her abilities, from day one!

However, he wouldn't be Lucifer when he would let her go like that.

Chloe anticipates what is coming.

He bends forward, lips placed close to her ear (_of course_ he does _that!_) and Chloe shivers from fighting the urge to turn her head and meet his lips.

"If you ever kneel before me, darling," he purrs seductively, "then let it be for a different kind of worshipping... which you _must _allow me to reciprocate. I'd _love _to worship you from head to toe, all night and day..." He pokes his tongue behind his teeth and wiggles his eyebrows at her, the proverbial cat that caught the canary.

His familiar antics help to snap her out of her reverence.

With a huge effort, she manages to give him her Chloe Decker patented, exasperated eye roll. It unfortunately loses a bit of its effect due to her still flaming red cheeks. Time to crank up her actress days!

Chloe scoffs, lifts her chin and puts her hands on her hips, a tiny bundle of will, glaring up at him. "If you want me to help you with the itching, then I suggest that you behave yourself, Lucifer!" Another ice-blue glare fired his way. "And no funny business or immature sex jokes, or I'll find you a stick so that you can scratch yourself! Understood?"

The practical Devil-wrangling detective is back!

A bit too soon for Lucifer's liking – his miracle is obviously not caught up in Divine worshipping thoughts or Devil distraction for too long.

"Ok, fine, fine, I promise!" he huffs with a contrite expression as if he's bitten into a lemon. He holds up his hands in mock surrender.

Then, in a small voice, "Will you... still... help me, Chloe...?"

_How can any person on this planet, least of all her, resist his brown begging eyes? _she thinks. Not her for sure; and not that she's ever going to tell him that!

Chloe smiles and steps closer, holding up her index finger. "Of course I will. If you stop your shenanigans, that is." She is now close enough to touch him, inhaling his scent.

Lucifer's eyes sparkle, his lips curl in joy and amusement, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he bows his head in surrender and points his finger to a place on his right wing shoulder. "It's there, and I cannot reach it properly! Its... _argh_... all itchy and messed up..."

"Let me see..." Chloe lays her hand on his soft glowing feathers. Lucifer trembles for a brief moment, then stills.

_Oh. My. D... Devil!_

And so does Chloe's world.

It is like _nothing_ she has ever felt before – soft and fluid like silk, brimming and pulsing with... _life, joy_... it is vibrant life, light... _overwhelming_.

_Like touching colours or smelling music in a lucid dream!_

Chloe inhales sharply and tries to get used to the _otherworldliness_ of her hands touching Lucifer's feathers and sensitive skin beneath. It feels as if she's touching his _very_ _being_. Her heart constricts painfully in her chest and overflows like cornucopia at the same time!

She shakes her head, trying to clear it.

She has to stand on tiptoes, even with him bending his wing forward for her to be able to reach the spot he indicated. He's so damn tall!

She starts to carefully comb and sort through his feathers, wills her fingertips to _see_ what her eyes cannot. Her breathing quickens as his wings' harmonic vibrations embrace her, flow into her. Chloe's fingers start to sing at the touch, her entire being revels in the contact. Her heart thrums, like it's going to burst!

Then, suddenly, Chloe reaches a spot that is out of harmony. Darkness lingering there, like a stench, a dissonant chord.

"_Aaaargh, riiiight_... _that's_ the spot..." Lucifer hisses and pants, his breathing has quickened too. He sways, sighs in bliss. His wing suddenly seems to have a life of its own, it curves into her hand like a purring cat's head - begging to be touched, to be sorted out, to be brought back into harmony.

Lucifer's voice sounds constricted as if he's being strangled, he nearly whimpers. "Yes, there, oh, _yes_ _please_…." He closes his eyes, shivers and so does his wing. Strangely, this _musical_ _connection_ of her fingertips with his wings is _immensely _intimate, like, on a whole new level intimate.

Chloe gasps as the intensity of his _longing for harmony_, or whatever it is that floods her like a tangible, solid piece of evidence. The sensation stirs a string that goes straight to Chloe's heart or... _soul_. Obviously, she has one, a bright one according to him – she's going to examine the meaning of that later.

Now, she has more pressing matters, or rather, feathers, to sort out.

Chloe understands instinctively what his wing beckons her to do, what Lucifer's need is. Her fingers identify the new feather quill that emerges from smooth, delicate new skin where a bullet has torn a hole into him. Her fingers can suddenly _see_ the shadowy memory of the ugly, dissonant damage.

_How, in Heaven and Hell, does that work? _She blinks, then decides to throw all human logic into the winds, dive in and trust her gut with her newfound senses and sensations.

_The first and the last sense that we have, when we are born and when we die, is the sense of touch._ _It is also the most underrated of our senses._ Ella's exuberant smile swims into her memory; it reassures Chloe to hear her friend's voice in her memory. She closes her eyes and lets her fingers continue their mission.

There it is! Now she knows! The new, re-growing quill is trapped under a large pinfeather, so that it grows out at a completely awkward angel.

Lucifer shudders and stammers under her touch, his wing sings to her. It is so beautiful_, _so deeply_ touching_ that it brings tears to Chloe's eyes.

She lets them flow, giving in to her pent-up need for release of tension, all of it! If her cheeks are wet - so what? She couldn't care less.

She gently massages the warm, light-emitting skin, her fingers join the dance of the wings' growing harmonic music. She gently swirls her fingertips around the quill bases, around the injured soft-skinned spot until the new quill comes loose and straightens itself up into the right direction on its own.

The darkened, dissonant spot of the former injury on Lucifer's wing fades out of existence like morning mist resolving in bright sunshine. The ghost of the injury's memory lingers for a second longer, before it also vanishes like the horrible feels of a nightmare fade into nothingness when your love embraces you.

The wing spot now pulses and glows with its newfound, free-flowing energy, or light, or music... with all the sensory onslaught that floods her senses like milk and honey... is that what Divinity feels like?

It fills Chloe's heart with such a joy that she wants to join into the concert, longs to sing!

Lucifer moans in pleasure, he shudders, sways on the spot, eyes closed, lips opened.

His head gradually sinks down onto his chest, exposing the fair skin of his elegant neck, framed by black curls. He seems so... vulnerable, so young_. _

It makes Chloe's heart swell with all these overwhelming emotions, to engulf him with her not-yet admitted…._ love_.

So. There. _It's out girl_, she thinks. _Be honest with yourself. In particular with yourself! _

The back of her hand tingles like mad as warmth spreads like liquid electricity to her fingers and towards her heart.

Lucifer's voice is higher than usual when the little needy moans are torn from his lips... they sound so… innocent. Chloe needs to hear him make these soft, melodious sounds again, she really does!

"Lucifer..." she whispers, blue eyes shining, swaying on the spot, "Your wings... I can hear... _no, I feel them_ _sing_... or, or... I dunno, they... _dance with colours in my mind_...?" she tries, struggling for words to express herself.

"You... you can sense... _me_?" Lucifer's eyes fly wide open from their closed state of bliss. "You, you can...? _How on earth_...? That... that is exactly what I would feel, back then, when I was... Oh, _Chloe!_" he whispers, his uncharacteristically young voice cracking with emotions.

A shiver runs down her spine, hearing him call her by her given name, in that innocent lost tone.

Lucifer swallows, makes up his mind. Then he comes forward.

"M- my… l-love, as per our deal, I am obliged to tell you that... your touch feels ... _heavenly_. breathtakingly... _different_. From Linda's, for example. She's the one who removed the bullets, you know. And… and I'm grateful she did."

Lucifer's dark eyes glisten in the starlight like black beetles. His lips tremble for the fraction of a second before he presses them together to still them, but she's seen it.

"Y- your hands on me _Chloe_..." her name a prayer on his lips. "is the closest to what it felt like back then... when I was young, naïve, still in heaven and when... my siblings... when we... cared for each other..." he breathes.

A soft whisper carried away by the night breeze. Then the sob of a lost child in the dark.

"I - I _forgot..._" She can see him shake, can see tears run down his face but like before, he does not make the slightest sound after the first she's heard.

Lucifer holds her gaze as he sinks to his knees in front of her. His magnificent glowing wings tremble and fold in slightly as he kneels in the sand to keep them from touching the floor. Then he expands them again. Vulnerable, trembling, exposing himself and his wings to her touch.

"_Please, Chloe, please_..." he whispers, stretching his wings wide beside him, left and right. _Touch me, sense me, help me,_ he doesn't say.

But, she has heard him.

It cuts through her like a sharp knife. _Nobody _has touched him in this way, obviously, for how long, exactly? He is a hot (ha!), dry, baked touch-deprived desert that stretches up to the horizon. No rainfall for millennia. She wonders what flowers are going to blossom when the first gentle drizzle in ages caresses his soul.

She sinks down in front of Lucifer, shuffles closer to him on her knees. Frames his face in her hands, with all the tenderness she feels. Enjoys the feeling of his rough stubble under her fingertips. She notes how wet it is.

Her blue gaze locks his warm brown eyes full of untold stories. Of Hell and torture. Of being cast out, _castaway_. An existence of such monumental loneliness that she hardly begins to fathom what it must have been, for him..

"Lucifer," she whispers, "I ... I can _see you_ with... with... my fingertips... when I touch... your wings... I - I see you, the entire you. Somehow." She swallows to clear the lump in her throat.

"I'll sort you out, I promise."

It is not just the ghastly memories of his injuries on his wings she means, and they both know it.

She swallows again, clears her throat. "As I have told you many times even before I _knew_," she adds, then chuckles, infusing a tiny bit of sarcasm, "many, many, many, _many_ times," she cocks an eyebrow at him, "and did I mention _many_ times, actually? I'm here for you, my friend... _if you finally let me in, that is!_"

Chloe has gripped the lapels of his dress shirt with her last words involuntarily and shakes him a bit, her eyes boring into his. Her voice wavers between angry, frustrated, hopeful and oh, so caring.

Lucifer blinks, clearly taken aback. Again. She sighs inwardly when she reads the surprise on his face - not by her gripping him. No. By her staying, by her caring. Her heart aches for him. An angry tears spill over. She doesn't feel them.

His voice is strangled. "You are... truly a miracle, Det..._Chloe_. What... what have I done to deserve you?"

A lone seagull screeches and the waves ponder the beach in a soothing steady rhythm.

Lucifer's wing curls forward on its own and the soft wing shoulder dabs a tear from her cheek that she hadn't realised was there.

She frames his face again and moves his head, bowing it downward, gently. Her lips touch his forehead in a small tender kiss. Then she touches her own forehead to his, breathing deeply. _Home. _She has to get a grip on her emotions….

Or, rather, on the human-sense overload-with-divine-experiences in her case. Breathing with him. Breathing him in. They sway gently together, each other's anchor.

Chloe smiles into his dark, shining eyes with more confidence than she really feels. She has a wing mission to accomplish.

She brushes his right, wet cheek with her lips, then ducks under his right wing and turns to face his winged back.

She gently sends her fingers into his plumage, spreads them like Divine-energy-flow sensors for damage exploration. It takes her just a few seconds to sense that the first injury darkness wasn't the only dissonant spot. She senses quickly where the next one must be, the one closest to the one she just fixed.

She moves forward, eyes closed, concentrating - her fingers to the rescue. There! That's it! _Yes! _Another dark ghost of the bullet damage vanishes; music and colours swirl from his feathers into her heart, her fingers dancing with the chords. Then another dark spot – two new quills that were tangled up in each other_. Ha, sorted!_

Chloe can't stop herself, she's intoxicated by _feeling _him, she has to continue, she has to...

She starts humming in joy while she works, she can't help it. Lucifer's little musical sounds of pleasure oddly complete her little melody.

Lucifer is now nearly down on his hands from arching his back and his wings into her touch, again and again – his gestures like a cats, yearning to be touched. By her.

She will never forget this, until her dying day.

Neither his touch-craving but still elegant movements, where his back or wings arch into her hands; nor the soft, melodious sounds of utter delight that he makes – Chloe is sure that they are an Angels' equivalent of _purring_.

Finally, everything is done – his marvellous white wings shine and hum, sparkling softly in the dark, rivalling the stars in the clear night sky. A symphony of beauty.

For some reason, the term "hozro" that the Navajo use to describe a person being in harmony with his or her world springs to her mind, she's read her Tony Hillerman in her youth.

_Yes_, she decides, _Hozro _fits best what she feels!

She breathes heavily as if she has run a race, shivers with the nights' cold. Or with pure exhaustion, she doesn't know.

Too much has happened, to many emotions, to many _new_ _worlds_ crashing down on her - or have her diving into them, headfirst.

She embraces Lucifer from behind and lets her head drop, resting her cheek between his wings, his shoulder blades. Snuggling into his dress shirt. He smells so… _home-y_.

She wonders vaguely how it is possible that the wings that spring from his back did not slice it to ribbons, but frankly, she's too tired to care about human logic at this point.

Lucifer's warm hands sneak hesitantly down onto her hands and forearms, signalling her to keep him embraced if she wants, and so she does, holding on tight.

She can even feel him curve his back ever so slightly, for her to rest more comfortably. She senses a low, melodious rumble emanating from him, under her cheek, more than she can hear it. Soothing, comforting.

Chloe allows herself to rest, just for a second. To revel in Lucifer's warmth, in his familiar scent of expensive whiskey, sandalwood and this new crisp, clean smell of sparking starlight that streams from his wings like a rivulet into the desert. The gently crashing waves lull her into peace.

She closes her eyes. _Just for a minute... Who needs their eyes open if they can rest between Angel wings? _Chloe's thoughts get blurry around the edges, they spin into each other like the waves on the beach. All she can feel is how Lucifer's thumbs gently brush her hands that are folded around his midriff. In a steady rhythm.

_A steady rhythm... Or is it the waves at the beach?_

At some point, Chloe's dozing mind notes movement, gentle, strong hands lift her body with ease, as if she was back to being a tiny girl. A rustling of feathers. She senses a shift in touch, in the source of his warmth. But, all is good. She feels Lucifer's arms embrace her, lifting her into a new position. Something warm and soft, like liquid silk, embraces her, holds her. She vaguely muses what it might be, but it doesn't matter... it feels so good...

Lucifer's chest rumbles, he says something to her, hugs her closer. She snuggles her nose into the little valley between his collarbones.

She does not understand what he says, but she doesn't need to. He's there, she succeeded, she made him stay. That's all that matters, for now.

Chloe's mind drifts off again, soothed by the waves.

The gentle rivulets of the cooling night-time breeze rustles the dry grasses, they gently shove sand grains, shaping the ever-changing coastline, grain by grain, before the breeze escapes into the vast widths of the Pacific. It does not select - it caresses sand grains, animals, humans and angles alike.

Under a vast, starry sky, the Devil sits on a boulder. An archaic sentinel, a dark elegant shadow against the sparkling expanse of the milky way.

He holds his life in his lap, wrapped in his wings.

Wings that feel whole, feel like _his_, for the first time in millennia. His miracle did it, healed them, no, _him _\- she is THE miracle, miracle taken to a whole new level. The Devil's forehead tingles where he has touched her hand in their mutual exchange of honesty, of trust.

It is easier for him to speak to her when she sleeps. He knows that, now, after he came home from Vegas. When he had given her the bullet necklace which he can see around her neck.

It is easier to practice their deal, easier to tell her everything when she sleeps.

Lucifer whispers into her hair to let her know how much of a miracle she is, to him. That he is embarrassed and so, so sorry that he took this selfish pleasure from her, without noticing how exhausting the onslaught of divinity might be for her. Promises that he will try, hard, to be better, for her. Less selfish, a better version of himself, for her.

To be worthy,of her.

His voice murmurs like a rivulet, tells her how much he fears to fail, to mess up; and how blessed he feels that she came after him, that she tracked him down, that she tamed his fear, tamed the monster - _him_.

He traces the lines of her face with his fingertips, softly. He kisses her hair, holds her close, revels in her presence, in sensing her shining soul.

If only he can muster the courage to tell her when she's awake. But a deal's a deal, he tells himself, he has to honour it; and he will.

That Chloe, of all people, made this honesty deal with him, Lucifer Morningstar – he thinks that it may well be the damn _best_ deal the Devil has ever made.


	6. Cookie Revelations and a Devilish roller

**Chapter 6 - Cookie Revelations and a Devilish roller coaster**

She floats on the ocean on her favorite air mattress, the light green one that as a jungle print on it. The blue sky stretches endlessly, as does the ocean. She is alone, but it does not feel bad; the sun is so warm and cozy. Not biting or stinging, just... perfect. Ah, how wonderful it is to be lazy in the sunshine! She cannot remember when she's ever felt so relaxed. The gentle sounds and movements of the waves sooth her heart, caress her soul.

She blinks. Suddenly, there is a common black-headed seagull. She wonders where it came from. It must have landed on her mattress but she had not noticed. _Strange_. It cocks its head and regards her. And now it tries to tell her something. She can hear its staccato cry that sounds like laughing, but does not get what it wants to let her know.

No, it's not the talking seagull. _Someone murmurs something. _

She knows that voice, she's heard it before… she tries to concentrate. If only her nose would not itch so much!

It's the seagull, dang the bird, it has stretched its wing forward and tickles her nose with one of its flight feathers. _Since when do seagulls do such things?_ She mumbles and jerks, trying to shoo the stupid animal away. It cocks its head and _grins with Lucifer's toothy grin..._?

Chloe's mind reboots slowly. She cracks open one eye. It_ is _warm and soft around her but there is no sunshine. Rather, it is night-time. The murmuring voice…. _Lucifer_. That is Lucifer's voice!

She revels in its rumbling, soothing tone. It feels like being home, being young, innocent and protected. A feeling she thought she had long forgotten.

But… there was something urgent, she can't remember what it was, but his voice is… not urgent, no. It is lovely, deep, resonant... She loves how his voice sounds. the subsonic vibrations sweep into her and make her warm inside.

After a while, she tries to listen.

"...thought I'd lost you, _Chloe_. That you would fear me, now that you know who I am." She feels him shiver. Little, small tremors. Now she knows where she is: In Lucifer's arms. He is holding her, she can smell him. His typical mixture of expensive cologne, whiskey, cigarettes and… _light?_ With difficulty, she cracks the other eye open.

The tickling thing at her nose, it's something white, it is glowing… ah. It's a feather, indeed.

He… has engulfed her in his wings. No wonder she feels as if she's floating. She senses their melodious humming sound, smells their light. _Smelling light seems to be part of her new reality, now, right?_

One by one, her own senses kick back in, belatedly, and so does her memory. She keeps her eyes closed and listens.

"To be honest with you, I am still afraid. Afraid that you will change your mind, once you ask questions and learn more about me, more about my... monstrous side… we… we have this deal and I'll honour it and…. even without our deal, I want to be honest with you. You _deserve _the truth, Chloe, but still…. I'm… I'm so... _afraid _I'll lose it all, lose you, the moment you know _all _of me…."

His soft, tender whispers are like a colourful stream of music homing in on her mind.

She feels like being in a déjà-vu, a vivid dream.

Lucifer talked to her like he does now when he came back from Vegas and found her sleeping in his bed, drunk, dressed in his shirt, amidst a raided penthouse and close to the demolished wall around his safe.

Another person would probably have been angry at all the wreckage they had produced, partying uninvited in his home. But, typical Lucifer, he'd been _amused _instead, delighted even.

Instead of being angry, he had gifted her the bullet necklace. Come to think of it, now that she knows who he is, she can fully appreciate how _intimate _it was. How he'd actively hinted at his own vulnerable state when it came to her; it was one of the things she has to examine closer, question no. #7 on her list, she recalls. Obviously, Lucifer had taken his vulnerability and put it trustingly back into her small human hands in the form of this necklace. Practically since the moment she took it off - for _Cain_, of all human stains - she felt bad for shoving him, his gesture, away like that. She begins to fathom how deeply she must have hurt Lucifer, now that she knows the truth. She still feels embarrassed when she thinks about how easily she had let Cain drive a wedge between her and Lucifer.

Remarkably, the necklace for her had been the only item stored in his safe. Which told her, in no uncertain words, that he values non-material things higher than goods, although he might probably be wealthy beyond imagination (question #44 on her list). Although he often acts as if he cares about things when he whines over stained suits or smeared loafers.

She can feel the little pendant of the chain around her neck glowing with warmth on her chest. Her skin tingles where it touches her. Or is it just her imagination?

_Lucifer is obviously more forthcoming when he thinks I'm asleep_, she thinks, but she doesn't want to eavesdrop longer than it takes her to fully wake up.

So, she fakes a yawn (another déjà-vu!) and briefly wonders if he can see through her and is just polite enough to accept it. Then she resolutely shoves the tickling feather away from her nose, straightens up and graces him with a sleepy smile, infused by all ther wake-up thoughts about this remarkable man, no, she corrects herself, Devil… Angel. _Archangel_, to be precise.

It will take her some time to get used to the fact that he's not human. And she is in a fallen Archangel's arms right now. Oh _okayyy_... Another tiny shuddering freak-out courses through her veins, and she's grateful that it's dampened this time by her still being wrapped up in his warm, humming wings.

As she opens her eyes to look into his, she finds Lucifer's soft brown eyes look down on her with tenderness and concern. "Are you ok, Detective? I- I should not have taken this… _service _from you. Please, accept my deepest apologies! That was… was _very _selfish of me."

Chloe blinks and smiles at him, still busy getting her brain back into full functionality, banishing divine singing wings, floating mattresses or talking seagulls alike.

She stirs and pulls herself into a more upright position, supported by his arms and one wing. "S-service? What service…? Oh. You mean… me, sorting out your wings…?"

She shakes her head in disbelief. "Lucifer, It's the _least _I could do for you, after everything you've done for me and Trixie," she breathes, then smiles at him reassuringly.

"It… it was my _pleasure_ to be allowed to sort out your wings." She waits for a pun, but none comes, which tells her how rattled he still is, regarding her with slightly parted lips and big eyes, speechless. "It was just so… _overwhelming_, you know? Because, in a… wonderful way (she searches for a stronger word and fails)... it was as if I touched your… _heart? Soul? Essence… ?_" she tries and hears him exhale softly.

"_Soul… _I think" he supplies, barely audible.

Their eyes connect and she feels like she's drowning in these soft dark eyes and the small, hesitant smile he gives her, unsure, almost shy. Shy! Lucifer, of all… _Devils!_ Her heart flies to him and she thinks that she wants to stay here forever, to lose herself... in his tender eyes, his arms, in this moment.

But the memories trickle back, one by one. Finally she remembers and freezes. "W...Wait… did I… did I fall asleep?"

Her cheeks blush, embarrassment spreading in her chest. "Tell me… _oh no!_ I did _not _actually _fall asleep_ on your _back_, did I?"

Lucifer chuckles warmly, his mouth curls into a smile at the edges but he regards her with tenderness. "I'm afraid you did, Love. No worries, though, it was my _pleasure _to carry your precious little weight for a while. Although I took the freedom to move you into a position that was more comfortable for both of us."

Sure. He has moved her so softly that she has slept on. The topic of his supernatural strength. She has to question him later about the extent of it.

He pulls her a little closer, hesitantly as if asking for permission and she melts into his chest immediately in response. It feels so good, so right, like coming home. She feels his arms pull her closer with grown confidence and sighs in bliss.

They cannot let go of one another now that they finally have this… solid fundament of their honesty deal to build a new relationship upon.

Everything is so new, so raw, so… exciting?

She feels that they are like two children, best friends, taking their first tentative, careful steps on that ice to test its firmness on the first crisp, sunny, brilliant winter day after a howling, raging winter storm has blown off. Smiling, excited, toes testing and probing, sensing all the endless possibilities for shared joy and laughter that the ice promises.

As she snuggles closer some hair strands fall into her face, tickling her cheeks. She wrinkles her nose. Immediately his left wing shoulder moves forward and gently shoves some of her hair behind her ear using a few spread wing-shoulder feathers like fingers, operating with stunning precision. Then his wing also hugs her closer to him, feathers comb over her hair briefly before the wing presses itself against her back, holding her upright. She feels the feathers do something rhythmically, what…? Oh! It feels likea very skilled _massage_ on her knotted back muscles. _Heavenly!_

She feels the next mental mini-freak-out hit her when it finally sinks in that Lucifer's wings are _an additional pair of limbs_. Like, as if he's got a third and fourth arm. That he can probably use them with the same precision that he can use his fingers with, when he plays the piano. And not just for… flying, or travelling between...what, planes of existence? Obviously, he can do all sorts of _stuff _with them like combing her hair, dab tears off her cheek, or… or massage, capture, retrieve and embrace her! She wonders what else he can do!

She rubs her face with her hands and feels as if she's back to being a little girl. _Chloe in Wonderland_, she muses, trying to adjust to this new reality.

But Lucifer distracts her by sighing deeply. He sounds so troubled that she forgets her wing-freak out immediately.

"Detective I… I want to apologize for not considering beforehand how you… how sorting out my wings might probably affect you. Seems that I'm just the same old, stupid, selfish Devil, again."

"No, you're not, Lucifer! Not at all, and especially not to me! I offered to help you, didn't I? Anyway… do you mean to say that all people will feel your wings… _sing_… when they touch them? And then fall asleep, due to exhaustion? So did you know beforehand that this would happen?" she asks.

_Chloe in Wonderland _may feel naive and out of her element, but this is uncharted territory and she's determined to explore it. _Dammit, _even Wonderland-Chloe is a detective, after all!

"N-No, that's probably a first. I didn't anticipate that you would be able to sense what a sibling would sense when we… back then… when we groomed each other, or when we, ah, conjured music and colours together," he sighs, struggling for words to describe heavenly customs.

"Conjuring colours and music together," she parrots, then thinks for a moment. "Is that what the word _hymnus _means…?" she asks in a small voice. "Sorry, I've read a lot in the last days, mind you. Did you… I mean, do Angels…" she swallows, suddenly concerned that her tentative steps into _Heaven territory _may sit badly with him.

"Never mind. Sorry I asked. You don't have to answer any of this if you don't want to, Lucifer."

He hesitates for a moment, then makes up his mind. "No. No, it's fine. Honesty deal, remember? I _want _to answer you, Detective." For a moment he looks as if this surprises himself, but she knows that it is the truth. Always the truth.

"So, yes, good intuition with the meaning of _hymnus_, detective. Only that it is not just music. You see, Angels can weave a complex reality to express their joy, their exuberant _joie de vivre_, to be more precise. Hymnus consists of (he uses his fingers to tick them off) a harmonious multidimensional entity of music and rhythm, of swirling, changing colours, of delicious smells and of soft sensory feelings. A... a bit like touches are for lovers or… human parents and their children, I guess. And more things that are hard to describe. And… and wings are one tool for creating… this... " His voice trails off.

For just a second, Lucifer's reminiscent smile is so radiant and young that he almost looks as if he's a different person, an innocent boyish version of himself.

Of course, he pulls up his walls quicker than she can say "sex".

"Well, one more reason for me to cut them off!" He barks out a humourless laugh. "I haven't felt the _urge _to weave _Heavenly sensory landscapes _since they'd cast me out, stabbed my wings and threw me into Hell, without a farewell note or a _get-well soon_ card, ever!" he growls.

She can sense his bitterness and hurt as if it were her own. Her heart bleeds for him.

He hesitates and she can hear the wonder in his voice. "Well, that was… until… _you _touched me. _Chloe_."

Hearing him practice using her name infuses her with glowing warmth from the inside.

_Speaking of_… she suddenly becomes aware that she's still in his lap, surrounded by his wings. And that he is _that _close! She can feel him with her entire body, or… _soul?_ Anyway, with all her senses.

She longs to reach up with her hands, to feel his lips on hers. She lifts her hand tentatively, lets her fingertips explore his face, his hair, his lips. Barely touching, hesitant, shy. He closes his eyes in bliss and bows his head towards her, his expression soft and attentive. She traces the lines of his eyebrows gently, tastes his stubble with her fingertips. He leans into her touch with an expression as if he's listening to heavenly choirs.

She straightens up a bit and her body becomes more aware of him by the second. His closeness, his scent, his warm tights under her backside; how his left arm and also his wing that embrace her back hold her upright.

Chloe's heart suddenly starts to beat faster.

His lips are slightly parted as he regards her with the same helpless, lost expression full of awe that he had when he confessed to her that he's the Devil. Ages ago. Or just a few days.

All she can remember is his soft, warm lips on hers, so vividly as if he's just kissed her a second ago.

Suddenly, she cannot spent just _one second_ longer without feeling him close to her, to feel his lips on hers again!

Her intentions must somehow have gotten through to him, nonverbally, because when she reaches up to frame his face and pull him towards her, he hesitantly bows down as if asking for permission.

"_Chloe…_" he breathes. _Closer, closer..._

She thinks she's going to _die _of anticipation until she can finally, _finally _feel his life-saving lips touch hers, testing each inch of her lips in reverent tender exploration, hardly even _touching _her. _How can she be so on fire in his rising tide of tenderness?_

She closes her eyes in delight and lets her heart and body - and soul? - revel in this moment of shared beauty. She can feel the very tip of his tongue touching her upper lip, the corners of her mouth, her lower lip. Testing, tickling. Exploring the thin ice of their... partnership?

Her lips burn from the touch as if he's bitten her, not caressed her. Then she can feel him shift slightly, missing the sensation of his lips for a split second before she can feel how he reverently touches her closed eyes, placing featherlight kisses there.

Every time he touches her eyes with his lips, a sparkle of swirling colours and faint harmonic notes erupt in her mind. It feels like a prayer, a Hallelujah she's never sung before.

Her breath quickens and so does his. She cannot let him go, she needs him, needs… _more… _

She opens her eyes just enough to place her hands on his stubble and draw his face closer. She thinks she needs to _ravish _him if the heat rushing through her veins is any indication, but then she cannot help herself. She _reciprocates_ his overwhelming gentleness, placing soft kisses on his lips, the corners of his mouth and his rough stubble, savouring each tender sensation. Exploring him, all of him, gently, anticipation building like a tsunami.

When she finally nips at his full bottom lip with her teeth, caresses it with the tip of her tongue, he opens his lips immediately.

She meets his tongue with hers, intoxication flooding her at the taste of him! She doesn't know if the deep, resonating _groan _that echoes through their entwined bodies is hers or his.

When they finally part to breath in some air, panting heavily, her body is aflame like never before. Her core sends shock waves through her body, she can feel the tips of her breasts tingle and constrict, longing for his touch. And sensing beneath her how their kiss has affected _him _does not help her case.

She feels that she's never been in such a heightened over-sensitive state before, body and soul. Not like this, _never _like this….

Whatever she might or might not have felt for Marcus when she was still under the illusion that he loved her, pales and vanishes, cleared out like an evil eviscerated spirit from her memory, rinsed away by Lucifer's oh so tender, reverent touches, their passionate kiss, their shared _joy on thin ice_.

She thought that she would be hungry for him, fierce, devour him alive when it came to this. But, to her own surprise, it is _tenderness _that overwhelms her. She closes her eyes, lifts her face and gives herself into the wonder of his lips, his fingers… _him_.

Each touch is a kiss, each kiss is a soft touch, until nothing exists but them, suspended in each other.

Finally, when they part for air they rest their foreheads together. _Home, home, home, _her mind sings.

Lucifer's voice is hoarse with emotions when he finally speaks.

"As per our deal, Det.. _Chloe_, I need to tell you that I have never felt… like _this _before." He pants heavily and sways slightly. "Holding you close, touching you, is like being back in… in Heaven. Without the dull parts, mind you."

His small chuckle sounds like a little hiccup. "You… get under my skin, _Chloe_, you… I could lose myself in you… and I don't _understand _what is happening to me!" He shakes his head, eyes huge. "But _I _don't care, as long as it is _you _who takes care of me…" his voice trembles a little at the last words and trails off.

She sees the confusion in his warm, wide eyes. There is something more, something important… something like _healing _which she does not understand. Yet.

But most of all, she senses his deep trust. He _trusts _her with his fragile, confused emotional state.

Like someone who tentatively, carefully takes first steps with a crutch when getting up for the first time after a broken bone, testing their healing leg.

On thin, crispy ice glitzing in the sunlight under a deep-blue sky.

Lucifer swallows, she can see his adams apple bobb up and down. He opens his mouth and closes it again, tries to speak. He seems confused and - _shy?_ _Lucifer, of all people, er, Devils, shy? Ha!_

"Chloe… would… would you be offended, my love, when I- I ask you if we may… take things _slow_...?"

He blinks and looks adorably dumbfounded, as if he can't believe what he's saying!

"It... it feels as if I have travelled dimensions all too fast and as if my soul lags behind." He swallows. "I feel as if I have to wait for it to catch up…."

His bewilderment is palpable. Chloe tries to hold her own emotions in check, physical and otherwise. The moment he says it, she knows that he's right, that taking it slow is right for her, too - for _them_.

Because there is no example to build upon for what a Human - Fallen-Angel/Devil relationship might look like. None, in all human history, she thinks. At least as far as her research goes.

They're both pioneers stepping into uncharted thin-ice territory.

She hesitates briefly. She has so many insecurities herself that for a moment she just wants to grab with him what she can. The need to be spontaneous, to be… _someone she's not_, she thinks. It's stupid, and probably fuelled by her recent experiences with men, especially her latest spectacular failure in choosing the world's first murderer.

But he's Lucifer! _Sex-god extraordinaire_, according to countless witnesses. And his own accord, of course. He's had eons of experiences with humankind in general and he's had so many gorgeous women over the centuries… _millennia!_ How can she _ever _compete, stretchmarks and all?

And how can he be content or satisfied in a relationship with just one ageing mortal woman? After the first rush is gone? And if he isn't satisfied with their relationship, with her, what would she be willing to accept to make him happy, where would she draw the line?

There is still so much she doesn't know, so much she has to learn and ask, to give their "thing", them, the chance to build something novel on their fundament.

But she's willing to try, and cross the bridges of doubt once they got there. Together. So, going slow allows their ice to grow thicker and be more carrying, reliable.

She touches his face with a gentle smile, runs her index finger over his eyebrows, lightly, like a soft evening breeze. She smiles into his confused eyes.

"No, Lucifer. I do not mind. Not at all... I think slow is perfect for... _us_. Whatever us is, at the moment." She gestures to both of them with the hand that has traced his brows, then continues. Her words, and her touches. A little blissful sigh escapes him.

"I... as per our honesty deal, I have to tell you that this was… it was like touching your wings, it- it touched my…" she clears her throat, "...soul. And only then, through it, my body." She swallows. "I think I need time to get used to… us... _this _being so different…" Her words fade to a whisper.

"S-same here," she hears him murmur silently by her side.

She will need more practice saying "soul" now that she knows she has one. She tips her head back to be properly able to look into each other's eyes while his warm gaze explore hers.

Time seems to slow down to a meaningless tickle. After an eternity or maybe just a few minutes, the crashing of the waves work their way into her mind.

Chloe sighs, smiles at him, places a kiss on her fingertips and places them on his lips as she glides down from his lap, feeling immediately bereft when their physical contact breaks. From her sideways glance she guesses that he does, too.

As she stretches to move her slightly numb limbs after her divine nap, her foot knocks over a little box in the sand. She bows down and picks it up. "Look! It's Trixie's little gift box for you." She smiles happily and offers the wrapped package to Lucifer who carefully takes it from her hands, the edges of his mouth curling up.

She cocks her eyebrows inquisitively, hands propped up on her hips. "Tell me, what kind of deal did the Devil make with my daughter?"

Lucifer smiles reassuringly at her and ducks his head. "Do not worry, Detective. It has to do with the latest developments. When Beatrice's best friend, what's her name? Zoé? Had been kidnapped by the Manchinelli gang*, your daughter came to me, for several reasons. She felt that she had made a mistake that she wanted to rectify." Chloe nods, that much she knows already.

"Beatrice offered, among other things, to supply me regularly with my favorite Decker-homemade cookies, in exchange for my help to find and free her friend and punish those responsible."

Lucifer rattles the little box and unwarps it, sticks his nose into it and inhales in bliss. "Aha, _lovely!_ Beatrice upheld her end of the bargain. Please offer her my thanks, Detective."

Chloe notes that he does no longer say "Spawn" or "Offspring" but that he's using her full given name or "daughter" when he speaks of Trixie. As if she has finally graduated from "child" as in "a thread to my suit" or "the Detective's overexcited extension that needs a leash" to a person he could actually communicate with. Her daughter has obviously become a person to him that he feels he has to address by her name. It deeply warms her heart.

The Devil pops a soft cookie into his mouth. "They're nearly as good as yours, Detective! With choco droplets and candied orange peel, excellent! My favorite kind! Want one?" He extends the cookie box to her.

"No, I'm not…" but before Chloe can say "hungry" her stomach growls louder than a pack of starved wolves circling a sheep. It sounds more like a rumbling earthquake.

"My, my, I see. You're obviously _not _hungry at all, Detective," Lucifer responds to her magnitude 9 earthquake. "Here, _smell _them, they're delicious! _Mmmmh..._" He shakes the box directly under her nose.

"_Come on, _they're _good!_" he purrs, "Give in to your _desires _for _once_!" She rolls her eyes at him and refuses out of principle!

It's not only her who knows him well, but he knows her well, too. He switches tactics in the blink of an eye, his brows now drawn together in concern pulling himself up into a stern-looking Devil, holding up his index finger and waving it at her.

"Detective, I must _insist _that you must replenish your dwindled reserves! I'm sure that sorting out my wings has burned up as many calories as running a Marathon would have. Why do you think you fell asleep in the first place?"

Her stomach decides to announce another earth-shattering rumble into the velvet night. Chloe sighs in defeat, takes a cookie and chews in bliss. He's right, they are _good_! Soft, tasty, aromatic! No hardened, burned little rocks.

When had her little girl, who is actually on her way of becoming a teen, learned to make cookies like _that_? Probably at Zoé's place, she muses, when Zoé's mum was out of hospital. The girls have probably baked them together while she was still doing research on her partner who turned out to be the Devil. She's so grateful for the friendship of the two girls!

"So, sorting out your wings burns calories in us humans? What does it make you then, a Divine gym? The Devil-sports playgrounds? A diet ingredient or a divine fat burner?"

"Well, we can agree on that I'm burning hot." Lucifer flashes her a toothy grin, delighted at her clumsy attempt at humor. "So I root for 'Divine fat burner' who likes to play _games_ on a devilish playground. Especially if _you_ will join me." He grins seductively.

Chloe rolls her eyes and huffs. "Oh come on, honestly! Is it true? Does sorting Angel wings burn calories?"

His grin morphs into a more genuine smile. "Yes, Detective, it's a fat burner indeed," he reminisces, "I mean, like, a lot! Linda… after fixing me, Linda had not only eaten the entire huge pizza we ordered, she also stole parts of mine, imagine that! And then she raided my fridge for all of the five differently flavoured Häagen-Dazs ice cream packs I had bought for Amenadiel. Linda has essentially set my ice cream stocks back to zero!" He sounds slightly offended but also a little bit proud of their therapist friend.

"So, chop, chop, restock your calories, Detective!" He cocks an eyebrow at her, looking strict, "Devil's orders!" Lucifer even infuses a bit of dark authority into his voice, without his former fear of her being afraid of him, she notes. That, more than everything else finally does the trick. It briefly flashes her mind that it may be _fun _to provoke him once in a while into being a bit more authoritative towards her - usually, he lets her call all the shorts!

He benevolently surveys Chloe as she empties the cookie box in record time, living up to her stomach's role-play as the big bad hungry wolf.

She grins at him, her mouth full of cookies. "You know what? This is _excellent_, Lucifer! It means I have to spent less time in the gym after a good meal then, right?"

"Ooooh, yes Detective, you're right! I mean no, not that you need to spend much time in the gym, anyway. But, what I mean is that I can cosset you and Beatrice with my cooking abilities to no end if you let me, and you _cannot _refrain from digging in by arguing _calories!_ We can just have a nice wing-grooming session afterwards, right? Excellent indeed!"

Lucifer's joyous happy smile is infectious; she _has _to reciprocate it while shaking her head and rolling her eyes at his shenanigans whilst enjoying them.

Then he gets serious again, regarding her with an intense gaze. He clears his throat. "I dearly hope, Detective, that you know that I would have helped young Beatrice _without _a deal…?"

Chloe thinks about it. Maybe _The Devil _may not have helped her daughter without a deal. But Lucifer, her friend, would. Always. And make her little girl feel like the growing-up teen she is in the process by accepting something of a totally different value as a payment, like homemade cookies for a saved life or three.

She smiles and nods. "Yes, I know that you would have," she reassures him.

"Lovely!" he beams at her.

But then he hesitates, his smile fades and he regards her with gravity. "There is one thing, though, that I must inquire, Detective," Lucifer says, suddenly solemn. He sounds dark and serious, as if he's explaining a live-saving contract to her.

She frowns, looking into his large, unblinking black eyes. His authority is back, but this time, it is not playful. _What the…?_

"Did Beatrice… did she tell you the entire story? Of what the girls did and why Zoé was caught in the first place?" he asks quietly.

Chloe nods fiercely in response, a bit daunted by his sudden change from playful to… _Devil_. Unconsciously, she leans closer towards him for comfort. "Yes. Yes, she did. Trix…" Chloe swallows, remembering their long conversation. "She… she seemed years older, she's growing out of the shell of being my little girl so fast these days. I mean, she certainly was... when she finally told me the whole story," she responds, still shuddering when she remembered the danger her daughter and all the other kids had been in. "She was devastated and she cried a lot, but she did not let me comfort her until she had gotten everything off her chest. And she did not spare herself or try to justify her actions and decisions. And I felt miserable because she'd probably been more forthcoming if I hadn't been with Pierce." She spits out the name like a rotten bit of food. "It was… heart wrenching, for both of us. But also really good, cleansing, somehow," she explains quitely.

A tear runs down her cheek at the mere memory. She wipes it away angrily, then looks up in his eyes.

The Devil regards her unblinkingly and she's alarmed by his serious expression. Ancient eyes x-ray her.

Finally, the corners of his mouth curl upward, he blinks, nods and exhales deeply, morphing back into her friend Lucifer, just for a short moment.

"_Good!_" he exclaims, breaking the tension. "So it _was _cathartic as I had intended. You see, Detective, this was Beatrice's penance. To tell you _everything_," he explains and Chloe stills, bewildered and a little bit scared.

Lucifer continues in his ancient, severe voice. It seemed to reverberate around her with subsonic tones. "Your Off- Your _daughter _felt responsible for something truly evil for which only very little, if any, of the guilt could be placed upon her. It was, by all means, a well thought of trap of these criminals. I am not quite familiar with child-raising, as you well know, but even_ I_ understand that Beatrice fell for an elaborate scheme that was _way _beyond her imagination."

Chloe nods in agreement. "Yes, definitely," she confirms.

"When there is one thing that I am… _intimately _familiar with, even more than with the anatomy of the female body," Lucifer flashes her a grin which she immediately categorizes as an attempt for distracting her, "It is _guilt_, detective. Your daughter felt severely guilty. And by just telling her she was not, neither you nor me would have been able to alleviate her guilty self-perception, especially if we hadn't managed to free her friend in the end."

He sighs. "You see, Detective, she needed, or rather, she _desired _punishment. To be able to lay her guilt to rest. So, the punishment I imposed upon her was to tell you everything, without sparing herself," he explains. "Because that was what she feared most on top of losing her friend. That you would think lowly of her. You and… _Marcus_." He spits the name as if it's a dirty swear word. (Not that he has any problems with those!). "And Beatrice accepted, gave me her word. I am glad to hear that she obliged."

Chloe lets that sink in, flabbergasted.

"As I said, I am really no expert when it comes to children. Or teens, mind you." After a moment, he adds, "But I'm very good at handing out punishment." He regards her as if his last remark had been a question.

Her eyes go wide with the sudden epiphany.

"You also mean… _punishment to lift someone's guilt…?_" she asks in a small voice.

The age-old eyes of the Lord of Hell regard her, unblinking, but she sees some golden lights emerge in the ancient depths, dancing little sparkles, as if he's laughing with his eyes.

"...as long as the human who feels guilty is still alive, yes." The golden sparkles cease and the warm brown colour emerges.

"I punish the wicked because they deserve it, true. You might say that it was part of my original design, and it was definitely part of my… ah, _job description _in Hell. But I also punish to fulfil the desire of those who feel guilty to _repay_, Detective. Believe me when I say that I am good at it." His deep resonating voice in the quietness of the night sends shivers down Chloe's spine.

Not because she's afraid of him. No. Rather, because of all the things he's said to her, over their joint time with hunts for murderers and culprits, it gets an entirely different meaning, now that she knows who he is.

She remembers the sniper who had killed loved ones to leash out to their spouses, because his wife Cassandra had died from cancer. How Lucifer, despite his dishevelled state (and she needs to ask him what was going on with him then) had seen right through him: That the man had lashed out to seek _punishment_. Because he himself felt guilty, held himself accountable because had not been there for his wife. She remembers Lucifer's words, clear as day, directed at the sniper:_ "It's not vengeance you want, it's punishment. Now you've got it! Good for you!" _

Knowing what she knows now… what did he mean? That the sniper now had a chance to escape Hell? By getting punishment on Earth? Even though he was a murderer? By… alleviating his guilt, by accepting his sentence and going to jail?

And what did all the "feeling guilty" stuff mean, for her daughter?

"Does… Beatrice feel better, now?" Lucifer finally asks softly, as if he's read her mind, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. "It certainly seemed so to me, when I had her on the phone this morning, before the funeral."

His "I need to know" hovers unspoken between them. Because he cares. The Devil cares. For her daughter. A small, insignificant human in his immortal lifespan. Warmth rises in her chest and she smiles at him.

"Yes, yes, she does, actually." She suddenly feels overwhelmed by his, what is it, exactly? Devilish thoughtfulness, perhaps? She feels tears sting behind her eyes and clears her throat. "And how do the cookies fit into the picture?"

"On top of feeling guilty, she wanted to offer me something for a deal since she was unsure if I would help her. To ensure my help before her friend was sold into human trafficking. Not that Beatrice knew exactly what kind of danger her friend was in. But she seemed to sense the gravity of it and she was desperate. Thus, I accepted her offer - on the plus side, it's a lovely weekly subscription of homemade Decker cookies!"

He grins with roguish joy, snatches the last cookie from the box and pops it into his mouth, "You see, I'd call that a very good deal!" he exclaims, cheerful Luciferness firmly back in place, mouthing around the food.

Chloe's stomach chooses this exact moment to announce loudly that it considered the cookies _just _the initial appetizer.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow and smirks. "My, my, detective! You really _are _starved! We need do do something about it! And in my Dad's name, do not waste your breath and deny it! You are obliged to be honest with me, remember?"

He grins, gets up and unceremoniously shrugs away his wings.

Their humming in her ears is immediately turned off, however, she can still _smell _their light faintly on him, now that she knows what light smells like.

"And since it is my fault, would you gracefully accompany me on a joint raiding tour to the nearest takeaway?" He extends his arm to her in a gentlemen's gesture with a slight bow.

Chloe sighs in fake desperation, shaking her head. "Well, since I have to be honest with you… _yes_, I could _really _use a bit of food," she confesses, locks her arm into the crook of his bent elbow.

They start walking towards the shoreline, with her closer to the swooshing waves, dipping her bare feet into the water, while Lucifer carries her boots in his free right hand.

"But where do you intend to find an open takeaway by now, Lucifer? I guess it is past midnight and they are all closed."

"It is and they are," he confirms. "But when have you ever seen me being stopped by locked doors? Especially when it comes to food?" Lucifer cocks his head to her side while they walk, looking smug.

"Lucifer, no B and E!" she scolds. Now it is his turn to roll his eyes and huff, for a change.

"It cannot be called _that _when we leave a wad of cash for whatever we take! Ok, fine, and I will close the door again when we leave, promise" he adds in response to her stern look. "Although I like open doors. And besides, this is a case of emergency, Detective, isn't it? You urgently need reserve-replenishing nourishment after your… our… wing encounter. And I happen to know _just _the place, all right-y? It's close by!"

Her stomach chooses this moment to loudly speak for itself. Lucifer grins, lets his eyes drop to her midriff and cocks an eyebrow. "How lovely for you to agree!" he responds to her traitor of a stomach.

They start walking in amiable silence. Then Chloe picks up her line of questions, the list in her pocket. She picks a question she thinks will not lead into murky territory.

"How strong are you, Lucifer?" she asks. "I've seen you push a grown man through a glass panel, dangle the fat murderer of Father Frank from the church wall after lifting him up with one hand - and I've seen how you held up Trixie by her legs with ease, high over your head, so that she could fix the shooting star…" she gulps, "...to our Christmas tree…." Her voice trails off. Maybe the territory _is_ murky. "Anyway. My question is, how far can you go with your strength, what can you do?"

He scoffs. "Probably a lot more than what you thought when you still considered me delusional. And likely a bit less than you think me capable of now…" he chuckles, "in case you might try and fit me into the Marvel Universe, that is!" He straightens up to his full height, puffs his chest and preens a little.

"So, you're not Ironman, huh? _Although _you have the same level of narcissism?" she grins back. "Well, I'm disappointed!"

A devilish grin spreads slowly across his features as he fully turns towards her. It reminds her of a purring cat that licks its paw clean of whipped cream after deliberately stepping into it. He lets her boots drop into the sand. His eyes start to sparkle which tells her that she is in trouble. He spreads his arms wide, invitingly. "How about- I _show _you what I can do…?"

"...show me…?" she parrots in a small voice.

"Yes!" He's warming up to his idea whatever plan he has come up with. "Tell me, Detective, do you easily get nauseous when you ride on a roller coaster? And with roller coaster, I don't mean our current emotional state!" he quips, with a rare insight for a... well, _Lucifer_. She can see Linda's therapy hand in there.

Chloe chuckles, securing a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, I don't, actually. I _love _roller coasters!" she smiles. "Dan was always the one who got sick when he tried to ride with Trixie! Me - _never_!" She expects him to dwell on the fact that "the douche" has a weak stomach, but he's obviously focusing on his plan instead - oh, _no! _What has she gotten herself into, now?

"Very well, Detective, then let's do it!" He beams at her and extends his arms, eager to pursue his idea but also a bit hesitant, as if she's going to bolt the moment he touches her.

But his excitement gets the better of him this time.

"Do what?" she inquires.

"Well, the Devils' roller coaster, of course, Love! If you're up to it?"

If there is one thing she knows by now, it is that she can trust him with her life and, probably, _more_. Ok, whatever it is, she's going to do it.

She swallows and steps forward into his waiting arms. "Um, ok..? What... what are you going to…?"

Before she can finish her sentence, he scoops her up in his arms and throws her up into the air!

The force is stunning! She speeds up like a cannonball, as if she's jumped, tied to a bungee cord but upwards, in the wrong direction! She feels her stomach plunge and she whoops loudly, she loves it! _YeahYeahYeah!_

But then she reaches the highest point in her arch. Earth's gravity gets the better of her and for the fraction of a second, she is suspended in mid air. _What now? _

She starts to fall… she….

...suddenly, she's wrapped up in Lucifer's arms. In mid air! _How…? _She cannot help herself, she's grinning from ear to ear with exuberant joy!

_Oh, this is fantastic! _

She looks up into his broad smile, his dark eyes sparkling with golden joy at her surprised, excited face, her shining eyes. His own smile grows wide in response. She thinks he is more beautiful, more playful than she's _ever _seen him!

Or maybe it's just the adrenaline rushing through her veins?

After a second she notices how she's swaying in the rhythm of the steady beat of his mighty, sparkling, singing wings that hold them hovering in mid-air… _how high, exactly?_

She risks a glance downwards and shudders. _Unbelievable!_

They are probably a quarter of a mile above the ocean that stretches wide beneath her like a dark velvet table cloth. She cannot really guess the distance… usually, distance is a thing for her that is _horizontal_, not _vertical_!

Before she can start to feel scared, Lucifer pulls her closer into his embrace. She feels his lips on her hair. "Don't you worry, my love, you're safe in my arms…" he murmurs. She hears and feels the steady _swoosh _of his beating wings, his arms wrapped around her midriff and she knows it's all true. _It's all true! _

She snuggles her cheek briefly into his chest in response, then tips her head back to meet his eyes, still smiling like a loon. She cannot help herself, this is too good!

"Kiss me, Lucifer!" she demands. "_Then do it again!_"

His laughter is like a well of liquid silver. He gladly obliges.

Just as she's completely absorbed in their kiss, he suddenly let's go of her!

She plunges immediately, arms and legs flailing, suspended. "_Too deep 2 plunge,_" she thinks, then, immediately, "_What CRAP am I thinking?_"

She falls, accelerates, the ocean surface approaches her rapidly to swallow her alive.

Just the second before the impact, she's scooped up again in his strong warm embrace, feels his wings beating steadily, holding them up just a few meters above the ocean surface.

She pants in excitement and glances down while her swooping stomach catches up. A dolphin leaps beneath her, splashing back into the ocean, followed by several members of the same pod, chatting excitedly with each other.

It's just… perfect! She feels alive like she's never had before! His soft brown eyes plunging into hers, the falling sensation still in her gut - she _has _to pull him towards her, ravish his lips, feel his stubble, taste his tongue, again… the combined addiction of adrenaline, pent-up emotions and Lucifer-closeness rushes through her veins like a powerful drug.

Aaaand, she's thrown upwards, again! Their cries of joy mix as he catches her, high up in the air.

They cannot help it, they play like children, the Devil and his Detective, out there over the deep blue sea.

They feel more alive than they have since… _well, ever_.


	7. Heavenly flight, food & devillish lesson

**Chapter 7 - Heavenly flight, earthly food and a devilish lesson **

They sit in the sand, panting heavily, smiling at each other, giggling, bursting into fits of laughter when they look at each other. It's hilarious!

Chloe feels as if she's back to being a little girl on a swing with her friends, or sweeping over a glitzing brand-new ice surface on ice-skates - back to feeling the _pure _childlike_ joy_ of being alive, of feeling new sensations for the very first time.

She could get used to his… Devil roller coaster thingy! In particular if it involves kissing Lucifer as much as she has when he catches her, falling from the sky. It's just entirely, absolutely _marvellous -_ and stubble burn be _damned!_

"How did you appear so fast to catch me just in time, Lucifer?" she inquires. "I didn't see you fly towards me. How did you suddenly appear in exactly the right place? Perfect timing, by the way!" She smiles at him, still feeling overwhelmed.

He beams radiantly at her, reflecting her joy. _Like a kid under the christmas tree_,she thinks, _like he can't believe she's here, with him_, _and not running for the hills_. She's never seen him radiate beauty like this - innocent and playful, sexual innuendo forgotten like a discarded coat. _My Lightbringer_, she thinks. Then, _he's not 'mine', what on earth am I thinking...?_

"Well, I used my wings, true. But I did not fly, strictly speaking. I crossed planes which makes me very fast. Near-light speed, to be precise. You humans would probably call it teleportation."

_Teleportation, huh._ She digests that. "Is that what you did back then when you were by my side and just, uh, two seconds later standing next to Richard Kester on that roof?" she questions.

Lucifer briefly furrows his brow, then grins. "Ah! You mean suicide-boy mourning his dead parrot, right?"

"Yes, exactly. In the case with the murdered cheater therapist"

"Right!" He chuckles, then smiles more genuinely. "First of all, you must know that I recall _everything _that I have ever encountered, Detective," he supplies softly, "Especially all the things, cases, humans and… new emotions... that I have discovered since working by your side. And I am grateful for every minute."

He smiles at her so lovingly that she wonders how he can say either the _sweetest _or the most _ridiculous _things without noticing what he's doing.

"As to your question, no, I did not have my wings back then, remember? I had Maze cut them off. I am just a much faster runner than you humans." He pauses, then supplies, "Usually, I just make sure that nobody spots me behaving completely _inhuman_."

He gives her a lopsided grin. "Just to prevent being mistaken for one of these stupid superheroes in tights and capes, mind you! I won't wear a gross red leather dress and _flash around_, would I? It would clash awfully with my sophisticated _style_." He huffs, appalled by the mere idea.

She opens her mouth to reply but then stops, her gaze turning inward as if she's listening. She turns fully towards him, one hand pressed to her stomach.

"I recall a promise for food. And you never break a promise, do you?" she inquires playfully, fixing a strand of her hair behind her ear. She doesn't even _want _to know how dishevelled she looks right now, after their airy _throw-plunge-and-kiss_ play.

"Mea culpa, Detective, right you are! I apologize!" He regards her for a moment, hesitating. "Would- would you agree to let me carry you? We'll be there faster if we fly."

Oh! "Fly...as in, _fly-fly_? Or fly-crossing-planes?" she asks, curious. She should feel worried or upset with all of these new reality bits, but she just isn't, because it is still him - Lucifer, her friend who always protects her at all costs… she cannot believe it but she just feels _curious_.

"N-No, unfortunately not the latter. Yet, I might add, perhaps. I'm still not sure that I can do it with a mortal in my arms without said human probably coming to harm. We need to test that beforehand with, say, another living creature. Like, an infernal guinea pig or something... In any case, I'm not going to risk letting you come to harm, Detective!"

"Ok, then… just fly-flying?" She grins up at him, and he delights in her newfound lightness.

"Yes, Detective, just plain old Devil airlines, at your service, ma'am."

He gets up gracefully as ever, tips an imaginary pilot's hat, adjusts his cufflinks and extends a helping hand towards her, pulling her up as if she weighs nothing.

"Do you want to travel facing me, or facing downwards?" he asks hesitantly.

Oh. He's asking about the position he's going to hold her close to him. So, there's that!

For a brief moment, she imagines herself pressed close to him, her breasts to his chest, her… lower regions to his groin, imagining his hardness with vivid body memory that she's felt earlier _exactly there_, and just like that, her body is aflame again.

What the Hell… _How, how on earth can that be, when he's not even touched her?_

She swallows. "I'd rather… I'd like to face the Earth," she whispers hesitantly. He beams at her, unaware of her sudden arousal. Or does he pretend not to have noticed? But would he? Smell her, maybe? Anyway, thank… _Dad_ or whomever that he refrains from teasing her mercilessly about it.

"Very well, Detective," he extends his arms, ever the gentle-devil she knows, and motions for her to turn around, bowing slightly.

"Devil airlines, at your service, love!" he purrs.

She obliges and turns around. She feels how his arms sneak hesitantly around her, as if seeking her approval, which she gives by taking a tiny step backwards and snuggling into him. One of his arms goes around her waist, the other arm hovers briefly between her breasts.

"It's ok, Lucifer," she whispers and shoves his arm towards her, fitting it diagonally across her chest between her breasts to spare herself further distractions (and later on, painful pressure when her weight will pull her down). She hears him sigh with content - or was it her?

"You need to entwine your feet with mine," he instructs and she obliges, angling her bare feet behind his ankles, losing contact with the ground. A strange position, but he holds her in place with absolute ease and his vibrating, underlying strength surges through her. _Joie de vivre_, indeed!

A sudden powerful _swooping _tells her that his wings have unfurled. A soft glow creeps into the periphery of her vision, showing her that his wings have extended to their full magnificent span left and right of them. She can feel and smell them, light and song.

Excitement rises in her chest like bubbling champagne. Despite all the wild _Devil roller coaster_ enjoyed earlier, she's… she's going to… _fly!_ Glide over the landscape - in his arms! The never-expiring dream of mankind realized, just for her! Her breath accelerates and of course he needles her a bit about it..

"My, my, detective, we are really _excited_, are we…?" he purrs into her ear seductively.

The bastard, he knows! Her sensitiveness is back in an instant as if he's turned a switch in her starved brain with his velvet voice. She feels his toned chest pressed against her back, his groin to her upper ass, she imagines how her fingers curl into the nape of his neck, tangle through his curls….

_Damn, she needs to stop that train of thought!_ Distraction division, march!

She huffs. "Oh shut up and get going, Lucifer, I'm absolutely _starving!_" It occurs to her that he's not the only one who's able to hide his feelings behind quips. Or in her case, verbal eye-rolls.

He chuckles. "Very well, Detective, as you _desire_. It is my utmost _pleasure _to oblige!" Before she can muse about the 50 shades of seductiveness that he's able to infuse into the words _desire _or _pleasure_, she's airborne!

With one mighty swoosh, the air is displaced left and right of her, and the sand beneath her speeds away at an amazing speed! He accelerates about 50 meters upwards with just 3 strong beats of his wings, then tips their position until they glide over the ocean horizontally.

It's absolutely _stunning. _Chloe inhales sharply, eyes going wide. She holds her breath and angles her feet steadier behind his achilles heels to hold on tight, but overall, she feels absolutely safe. She feels his arms tightening closer around her, holding her as if he's read her mind.

Another strong beat of his wings and he sails even higher up over the dark, nightblue ocean, farther away from the shoreline. She feels the fresh breeze hit her face and closes her eyes just for a second, to chase the _pure joy _of speed travel, with her pressed close to his warmth and the wind in her hair, escaped strands fanning out behind her.

She can feel him ride the air currents, gliding, maneuvering to the left and right with rustling feathers. She observes how he adjusts his wings and the huge, sharp flight feathers spreading or aligning with the currents as needed. Again, as if he's read her mind, he starts to explain. She smiles as she detects a tiny resonance of pride in his tone.

"You see, Detective, during this time of the night, the water is warmer than the land. Land masses usually cool faster. Thus, we have upward air movement here, a local low-pressure system of upwelling air over the ocean, which allows me to ride the currents, which is more comfortable for you than me beating my wings constantly."

Her stomach plummets as she suddenly feels them shoot upwards at least 10 meters in just a second, as strong air currents grip and lift them. Lucifer, however, is completely unfazed by the sudden lift. It makes her realize that he takes to the sky like a fish to the water.

She cannot help herself - to fly is _gigantic! _She whoops loudly, she cannot keep it in! And dang, why is there suddenly the music of "Pirates of the Caribbean" in her mind? She laughs out in joy as she rides with the Devil - and he joins in, laughs because she does.

She can feel him press a kiss to her hair and a shiver runs down her spine.

She turns her head to one side, just enough to observe and analyze how his powerful wings operate. They are spread wide like those of a bird of prey, gliding through the night, lazily adjusting flight feathers here and there.

Their sparkling, glowing light pulses off them in musical waves, rivaling the stars, breathtaking, magnificent! _Oh...G..my Devil, she wishes that the flight would never end!_

But of course it does, as all things do. Time moves forward at its own inherent pace, and so do they.

She feels more than she sees that they approach their destination. Far, far too quickly for her newfound joy in _flying with Archangel airlines! _

With her whole body pressed close to his she can sense their destination; A shift in position here, in tension there, the way the wind rushes through different feathers as he turns. The world is tipping slightly to the right as he curves and steers them back towards the shoreline again, gilding downwards.

She spots the first in a long line of wooden takeaway huts on the L.A. shoreline. Ah, there they go! They approach one of the huts at astonishing speed and she holds her breath.

He steers towards the second hut in line. When he's just three meters above the ground, he beats his wings powerfully for, one, two, three times, pulling them into an upright position.

He touches down so gently that she just notices it because he releases her, carefully guiding her bare feet back to the ground.

When she turns to face him, grinning like a loon he smiles at her radiantly, infused with a tiny shot of pride. Well, he has all reason to be, she thinks, and then, he's Lucifer, isn't he?

He cocks his head. "My, my, darling, no applause for your captain's soft touch-down?" he quips. "Well, I'm disappointed, love." His grin betrays his words.

She chuckles. "No, not applause, but rather…." She grabs the lapels of his suit jacket, draws him resolutely close to her and plants a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips, taking her time to taste him.

"You see, I'd like to express my gratitude in a different way, _Captain_..." She smiles, then her vision suddenly goes blurry around the edges and her legs buckle underneath her.

Lucifer catches her before she hits the ground. Large, concerned brown eyes swim into her vision. "Oh, wow…" she murmurs, "as if I were pregnant…." She hears his sharp inhale close to her ear. Worried. "_Detective…?_" his strained voice pulls her back into consciousness.

"I - I could really use some food by now, I think…" she murmurs. "I'm probably a bit hypoglycaemic with all the, erm, _excitement _of the night…" her voice trails off.

"Ah, of _course _you are! I apologize, I sometimes forget how fragile you humans are. Your wish is my command, Detective!" He doesn't waste time, picks her up, bridal style, and carries her to the locked door of the hut. "Food coming right up, mind you!"

She hooks her arms around his neck to help him hold her up. She sees him grip the door handle while he presses her to his chest with one arm, supporting her weight with his opposite wing. Even in her dazed state, she registers that her "they move as separate, independent limbs even if he's not flying" inference has quite a solid fundament of observational evidence to build upon.

Of course, the door immediately clicks open. _How on Earth does he do that_, she thinks. But her sugar-deprived brain is just too lazy to question him about it. After all the wing-music and roller coaster emotions of the night, she doesn't care for the answer. _Later. She will ask later..._ her eyes droop.

Lucifer carries her inside, puts her tenderly down on a wooden bench and looks around. He spots a stack of neatly folded fleece covers that are usually given out to guests who want to sit outside when it gets cold at night. He takes several and wraps her carefully in them.

"Are you okay for the moment, Detective…?" he inquires hesitantly. "I'm going to prepare something asap."

"_Mmmh-hm_," she confirms, head still spinning. _Elaborate, Chloe_, she thinks, dazed by starvation, exhaustion and comforted by warmth and his closeness.

She hears him hum and sing happily as he clanks and shoves things around. Pots and pans, maybe. Whatever. Then a sizzling sound. She's so, so tired, she really is… but she's never felt better. Safer. Being in his care, being in the Devil's care. She smiles at the madness of it all. Her eyes close and she dozes off, head propped up on her arms.

Something delicious tickles her nose. _What…is it...?_ She opens her left eye just an inch. A face swims into her vision.

Oh! How nice! _A big helping of delicious Devil… _she smiles sleepily, grabs Lucifer's face, pulls him towards her with surprising strength and locks her lips to his, closing her eyes in bliss at the taste of him.

His eyes go wide in surprise and he nearly drops her plate, but manages to put it down in front of her with a "clank". She feels and hears him humming in appreciation under her lips.

Finally Lucifer withdraws gently, frames her face with his large, warm hands and peers into her eyes to make sure that she gets his words. She revels in the touch, leans into his palms.

"Even if I could go on like this forever, Detective, I have to bring your attention towards sustaining yourself. After all, I have a promise to fulfill, don't I?" He gently places shoves the dish in front of her. "See, I'm the responsible Devil here. I can be that occasionally when needed." He chuckles proudly and a bit surprised with himself it seems.

A cloud of delicious smells rises from it and engulfs her like a warm blanket. "Your omelette pancakes _à la Devil _are ready... _Chloe_," he supplies softly, then, with a seductive undercurrent, emphasizing the consonants, "..._warm, sweet_ pancakes with cinnamon sugar, hot _framboises_, ah, raspberries, _aaaand _the best vanilla ice cream you can find at the entire LA shoreline, topped with whipped cream with a bit of melted dark chocolate in it."

She sits up and rubs her eyes, blinking, inhaling. It smells overwhelming delicious. How on Earth did he manage to make this - she peers at her watch, it's around midnight - in just 15 minutes?

Lucifer, meanwhile, chats on with a lightness she's seldom heard from him in such a genuine, carefree way. "You know, Dimitris is a _genius _when it comes to ice cream making… I'll have you know he's studied it in Palermo, learning at the best of all Italian _Gelaterias_. His ice cream variety "Paradiso" has even earned a gold medal recently." He grins. "And, in case there is any doubt, you can have _me _for desert, anytime you like!" he purrs, leaning forward and touching her earlobe with his lips.

_Tempting! _She smiles into his eyes and grabs the fork and knife.

Suddenly, she's so _hungry _she cannot stand it for one second longer! She digs in, hardly refraining from stuffing everything into her mouth with her fingers.

He regards her fondly, full of silent joy, at first. Then he starts to cheer her on while she wolfs down pancakes, fruits and ice cream, hovering besides her like an overprotective parent in a way _she _would cheer on Trixie after a long illness. He must really be worried, she muses. _Chewing, swallowing, digging in, repeat._

"Yes, that's good! _Good _detective! Yes, try that ball of vanilla ice cream… mmmmh! And now, try the raspberries! Dimitris has the best, he imports them directly from a small organic farm nearby… yes, fine. And now, another bite of pancake… _Lovely!_"

After the first hungry onslaught, she brandishes her fork at him while she digs in, chews, swallows. "Will you please shut up, Lucifer!" she mouths around the food.

His eyes go wide in fake innocence. "Why should I? Why on Earth should I deny myself the _pleasure_?" He grins happily. "Watching you devour my sensory masterpiece is like an artwork installment!"

She rolls her eyes and shoves another helping of creamy cold vanilla ice with hot raspberries into her mouth, closing her eyes briefly as a bomb of aroma explodes on her tongue. She moans in delight. "It's _excellent_, Lucifer! the best pancakes I've _ever _tasted!"

"I'm sure they are!" Well, modesty is not the Devil's jam.

"But what about you?" she asks after swallowing another excellent bite. "You should eat something as well. Or… don't you need to eat?" she asks, hesitantly. Now that her primal needs are nearly satisfied, her brain is obviously back on track questioning him.

He seems completely fine with it. "Well, as long as I choose to be bound to the earthly plane, I do indeed have to eat, Detective. I am not entirely outside the rules of this realm, as long as I reside in this body," he explains. "Although I can probably survive much longer than a human can, without the need for food, water or oxygen." He chuckles. "Well, but I can't survive without a good drink."

He gets up, refills the tumbler he has placed next to where he's worked on her meal and takes a healthy sip of what she assumes is a good, expensive whiskey.

"You know what, Lucifer?" She sighs. "I could use one, too, after… well, _everything_. Can you pour me one? Just a little bit, please," she adds.

"Detective! You positively surprise me!" he exclaims, delighted. "And a good choice indeed. Dimitris has a hidden stock of excellent Irish whiskeys that he's shared with me on more than one occasion. Don't worry, Detective, I've already placed a sufficient amount of cash there."

He smiles, genuinely proud of himself that he's managed to keep to the rules. She has the distinct impression that half of his joy is derived from pleasing _her _by adhering to the rules. _Satan is like a child when it comes to me,_ she thinks. _Why is that? Why me? _When he is so keen on rejecting the rules of his Father?

He takes another tumbler, fills it, then makes a show of putting it on a serving plate, decorating his arm with the kitchen towel and serving it expertly, setting it down in front of Chloe with a tiny elegant bow.

She smiles into his sparkling eyes, picks it up to clinks glasses with him, before she allows herself to take a tiny sip. The liquor burns in her mouth while flooding her nose and tongue with exquisite, smoky flavours as she exhales, mild but rich. It revives her and is _just _what the doctor ordered - well, at least Linda would approve, she thinks. So well cared for, her life energy seems to return at an amazing speed, despite the late hour. She could get used to that kind of care!

After they have both eaten their share and she feels like she's going to roll rather than walk, he quickly cleans up. She loves watching his movements, his body language. Every grip or move seems aimed yet elegant. It's a thing she always liked about him, to watch him move.

Finally they prepare to leave, but only after Lucifer has placed a lot of cash in different places, murmuring something about "easter eggs for Dimitris".

She's determined to come back another day and meet the man for herself; he sounds interesting enough. And Trixie must _definitely _taste Dimitris' divine assortments of ice cream!

When she peels herself out of the sheets and puts her bare feet on the wooden planks of the hut, she notices that her boots are missing. She makes a huffing noise and racks her brain as to where she'd last had them.

Lucifer looks up with a questioning glance on his face, cocking his eyebrow. "_Hmmm?_ Detective?"

"We've lost my boots, I think," she says. "It's unfortunate, they were really my favorites, cosy and good to run in, despite the high heels… I guess they are somewhere in the sand of the shoreline close to where we, ah, set up our own kiss-and-plunge fair."

She smiles warmly at him. "No problem at all, Detective," he assures her and shuts the door of the hut (she hears the lock click back closed). "How about we glide back to where we _finally _had _fun _for the first time, pick them up and I drive you back to your home, or to mine, dealer's choice? Well, I do assume that you will complain about your car being left behind, as it were."

"I - I don't know. I love flying with you, I really do. But…" She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, "Isn't it a problem if someone spots us flying? I mean..." she gestures him up and down. "Is it… _allowed?_" She's unsure herself if she's referring to human or heavenly rules here.

Lucifer scoffs. "Of course it bloody isn't, according to _Angel-rules set by Dad-The-Almighty-Spoilsport!_ Amenadiel would tell you that much, if you want to hear it or not. And then drone on _forever _about how we shouldn't expose humanity to divinity!"

He grins at her and she clearly spots the mischievous youngster angel in him, who was probably a _divine world champion_ at pranking and annoying his older brother while enjoying himself _profoundly_.

"But it isn't a problem, Detective, I assure you. My experience is that even if you throw divinity into their faces, with the humans of this century and this place and with all of its film industry, that _nobody _will bloody ever believe you! Especially during nighttime it's a bit like hiding in plain sight - people file away the sight of a winged creature as a figment of their imagination. Or intoxication, literally. Or they will believe in having seen a stupid _superhero_, but definitely not in having seen the Devil."

_Or an Angel_, she thinks.

"Wouldn't _you _say that it works very well, Detective?" He grins at her, wiggling his eyebrows, while she blushes thoroughly, feeling embarrassed. _How long _has she made up stories to explain away all his Luciferness that he has paraded in front of her, literally, from day one? Hiding in plain sight, indeed.

"But what if someone records a tape and-"

"And posts it online?" he finishes her sentence for her, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "What do you think will happen if they do? Half of the viewers will think it's fake, just photoshopped; others will claim special effects or think that superheroes are a thing. And only one or two religious zealots will take if for what it is. And _no one _believes these guys anymore these days, am I right? You see where I'm going with this? I'd say a nighttime flight is mostly safe, Detective. As long as we don't land on a street sign or traffic light and cause an accident by the _gorgeous _sight of the two of us." She cannot help herself but starts to giggle at the picture in her mind, Lee-Garbett comic style, of Lucifer sitting on a street sign, in a red suit, perfectly groomed and wings flaring out.

"Plus, people usually do not look up to spot what is directly over their heads, mind you. Your human ancestors lost _that _particular ability and sense for spotting something above your heads, when the Hominini shifted their walking on thin twigs habit to the soil floor, about 8 million years ago, during the upper Miocene. So, shall we get going?"

_Upper Miocene, right. Um. Then evolution is still a thing, is it? How does all the Garden Eden and Adam and Eve stuff fit in, then?_

Before she can dwell on musing if the now-famous _Australopithecus afarensis_ fossil 'Lucy' already has _had _a soul, Lucifer spreads his arms invitingly and summons his wings that flare out with a now already familiar _swoop_, distracting her immediately.

And how willingly she lets herself be distracted by the glorious sight of him! She sees his features morph into a genuine, surprised smile of joy and belatedly recognizes that his smile is simply a mirror of hers - she's grinning like a loon.

She composes herself, steps forward and obediently turns around to assume her _Angel airways_ starting position. A content sigh escapes her as she feels his chest pressed to her back, his arms closing gently but firmly around her. She hooks her feet to his ankles expertly and with a few mighty beats of his wings, they are airborne, sailing and riding the currents high over the ocean. She laughs, whoops and closes her eyes to feel the wind on her face, savouring every second of her joyride with the Devil.

Lucifer seems to have a preternatural sense for destination. She hears him murmur, "Ah, _there _they are, the little buggers, I spot them now," when she doesn't see _anything_. It's just too bloody far away!

She feels him finally steer straight towards the coastline as if there is a landing runway with blinking lights, with her boots instead of a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

At least she presumes that they are there, because _she _cannot see them. Yet.

"You do have much better eyesight than we humans have, do you?" she asks, a bit louder than usual, to be heard over the rushing wind of their speed and the occasional beating of his wings. (Question no. #11 posed for hypothesis confirmation, check.)

"Yes, of course I do. My eyesight is a bit better than that of a bird of prey, say, an eagle's. It's about equal to that of a Pteranodon." When he hears her sharp intake of breath, he elaborates. "As you probably know, Pteranodons were large flight dinosaurs. Well, 'dinosaurs' is a really stupid human term, since the creatures were more or less warm-blooded. They roamed the Earth from about 235 to 66 million earthly years ago - I _loved _chasing Pteranodons!" He giggles boyishly at the memory and she feels her jaw drop.

"Some family members of the Pterodactyls are still alive today, you know." He manoeuvres them into a steady, left-curving downglide, sharp flight feathers fanning out, rustling in the night breeze.

"They... _are?_" She immediately thinks of a hidden world full of Velociraptors, Plesiosaurs and Pterodactyls, Jurassic park style - she's ready to believe _anything_ by now, with all her overthrown worldviews! _Is Nessie a thing then, is she, or...it? Is she a Plesiosaur? Trixie will be over the moon!_

"Yes, of _course _they are, Detective." Lucifer sounds amused, flapping his wings lazily. She assumes, nay, she's _sure _he has that shit-eating grin on his face right now.

"_Birds._ Today's birds are direct descendants of the dinosaurs." She groans and huffs, slapping the hand he holds her with. "Argh! I knew _that…_"

He chuckles, content with himself that he has successfully misled her. "I'm sure you do, Detective."

As they descend further, she finally spots her boots laying in the sand near the shoreline. She files away the knowledge that he's spotted them when they were about 300 meters higher and half a mile farther away. _Unbelievable!_

Suddenly, she can feel his whole body tense, hears his sharp intake of breath. He stops the downglide and flaps his wings in three powerful beats, pulling them into an upright position to allow them (or just her?) to face the shoreline, the beach and the dunes behind.

And then she hears it as well.

Just the moment before, she thought she heard seagulls shrieking.

No, it's an anguished human cry. If desperate or in pain, she cannot tell. A thin female voice, trembling over an upwelling of ugly cheering and gleeful laughter. It sounds distanly like the _ha-ha-ha _of the freaking talking seagull in her wing-fuelled dream.

Finally she can see her, see them. A small figure, running away from the dunes as fast as she can towards the shoreline, hunted by a mob of probably drunken young lads who bellow and whistle while chasing their prey.

_It's probably the rude group I came across when I went to the beach_, she thinks. _Ages ago. Or just tonight._

She feels how anger burns like acid in her gut, a rising, boiling tide - she sees them circle the girl who now rushes forward directly below them, panting heavily in fearful little sobs. Her dark braid flies behind her, her beautiful Maze-colored skin glistens in sweat.

The cajoling mob cuts her escape route short, closing in. They are led by a slender, athletic young man, the group of 8 to 10 men outnumbering her by far. From their shouting it is plain clear what they have in mind.

_Lucifer is absolutely right about people not looking up_, she thinks. The wild hunt rushes into the direction the two of them just came from.

"Lucifer, bring me down, quick! Please! I need to help her!" She squirms in his arms, her heart pounding like a hammer in her chest, she's sure he can feel it with his arms locked around her.

"_We_ are going to help her, Detective," Lucifer clarifies into her ear, "Don't leave me out of the fun!"

He acts immediately as he speaks, pulls her closer to his chest and tips them forward into a steep downward dive. She can feel diving plus cop adrenaline rushing through her veins with every beat.

Just the second before they would crash he pulls them horizontally, she notes how his large flight feathers fan out, sending them forward in a horizontal top-speed glide two meters above the sand. _A deadly double-Decker-bird of prey_, her adrenaline-swamped brain supplies.

As they are close behind the hunt, he fans out his huge wings and flaps them once, putting her back onto her feet gently. Nevertheless, the momentum sends her running forward, chasing behind the running, cheering group of assaulters.

"Do I have your consent to exert some educational punishment,Detective?" She can hear the gleeful grin in his voice a few meters behind her.

_Woah, the Devil asks me for permission_, she thinks as she sprints forward, well aware of the absence of her badge and the gun at her belt, shouting back over her shoulder.

"Yes, yes, whatever, Lucifer, just…. let's stop them and help her!"

Her last two words are swallowed by a mighty gush of wings that she now identifies with Lucifer _crossing planes_.

Just 30 meters in front of her, the fair-haired gang leader finally succeeds in bringing down the girl they chase by catapulting himself forward and pinning her to the ground, collapsing on top of her. She can hear the girl's pained, frightened little outcry, nearly covered by the crowd's cheering, whooping and jostling._ "Yeah! You've got her, Dave! Hold her down!" _

"_Whohooo, we got her, I'm second, Dave!" _

"_Don't let her escape, Dave!" _

"_Teach her a lesson, bitch needs to learn her place!"_

Chloe speeds up, running forward. "STOP!" she yells with her firmest cop voice, adrenaline pumping through her veins. "Stop it! NOW! _LAPD!_"

The drunken hunting crowd freezes, heads turn. Two bulky guys at the end of the mob who look like football players turn towards her.

"Where did _she _come from, Greg?" one of them asks, blinking stupidly.

"No idea, Matt! But one more chick on the plate, right?" Greg grins back. Now he fully turns towards her, together with Matt and a third, pimple-faced lanky boy who grins maliciously. The five remaining hunters ignore her completely and turn to watch and cheer on Dave, deciding that she's no thread - no badge, no gun - and that three of them will be enough to subdue her.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see how the blonde painfully fixes down the girl's kicking legs with his knees, making her scream in pain. Then he grips her hitting hands with bruising force and pulls them over her head, pinning them down in the sand, while he tries to pull her shirt over her head, exposing her, groping at her breasts. The girl's angry and frightened screams pierce her heart. _Where is Lucifer?_

Unfortunately, she has to prepare herself, since Greg chooses that moment to move towards her like a grinning bulldozer, intentions quite clearly readable on his broad, not-too-intelligent face as he smacks his lips in anticipation. "A bit older but still yummy," he drawls, "LAPD, _really?_ Where's your gun, then, missy? You don't have one? I'm gonna show you mine!"

All it takes for her to send Greg-the-bulldozer tumbling down is a swift, trained kick to the nuts full force, followed by a well-aimed punch to the nose plus one to his temple. While Greg howls and falls forward on his knees as if he's going to pray, spluttering and cursing, Matt grunts angrily, collects his wits and attacks her form the other side, swinging his hand in a wide arch to slap her in the face.

In one fluent movement she steadies herself, pulls up her elbows around her head to protect her nose, throat and face - the way she has practiced it a hundred times during self-defense training - and waits for the impact.

As expected, she hears Matt howl and whimper in pain when he breaks his hand the moment it impacts her sharp upward-protruding elbows, just with the force of his own blow. She punches him on the Adam's apple and finishes him off with a well-aimed kick between the legs, leaving him flailing and whining in a heap on the ground.

"Anyone _else _who needs a bit of _educational punishment _around here?" she shouts. _Where the Hell is Satan when you need him? _She grits her teeth as more heads turn towards her, more eyes widen in surprise when they take in the groaning heaps in her wake.

Her anger and determination clearly shows, rolling off her in waves. It makes pimple-face freeze in fear and step back two times as she steps forward two times. It looks like a crazed ritualized dance. Pimples gives an awkward little rabbit squeak and stumbles towards the group, fleeing into the safety of his bigger buddies flock.

Now they all face her fully, even those who have cheered Handsome-Davie on. Dave pulls himself up from trying to forcefully kissing the girl who struggles and sobs with all she has, trying to wind herself out of his grip.

Chloe's shout has startled Dave, that much is clear - he believed her dealt with. For a brief moment, Dave's grip loosens.

That is all it needs, the girl takes her chance: With her last reserves mobilized by despair, she rips her arms out of her attacker's grip and smashes her forehead into his nose.

The crunching sound and Dave's outcry are swallowed by a sudden mighty "swoosh" that clearly tells Chloe that Lucifer has reappeared.

_Finally! _

There he stands behind the head of the girl, grinning like the Devil he is, shrugging away his wings. "My, my, aren't we a nasty lot of sexual assaulters," he drawls. "Nine men attacking one woman, brave and sportsmanlike, _bravo!_" He strolls closer, not a care on the world, and slowly claps his hands in mock applause. "I'd say a good educational punishment is in order here."

In contrast to former _Lucifer stunts_ during cases, she can now hear subsonic tones of darkness and danger in his voice. It is as if an icy breeze sweeps over the gang that has frozen down at Lucifer's sudden appearance. Some stumble a few paces back, others hiss or give little squeaks of surprise. She wonders how she's _not _heard the danger emanating from him before - is it just because she didn't know?

Or is it because she always knew that she'll be able to hold him back when it really mattered? What does she feel now, now that she knows?

Suddenly it dawns on her that he has always just _consented _to let her hold him back, has bent his freakish strength and urge to punish to _her _will. _Wow!_ She'll save the mini-freak out for later - she's determined to let him have his way, because she's sure that she can hold him back when things get out of hand. In that regard, nothing's changed.

He strolls forward, bows down and effortlessly plucks handsome-now-nose-bleeding Dave from the girl like a ripe cherry from a tree, dangling him by his collar one-handedly up in midair. His other hand rests nonchalantly in his designer pants pockets.

_In lack of a tumbler_, Chloe thinks, smiling to herself while keeping the heaps of Greg, Matt and the rest of the gang in view and check.

The Devil regards the young man, head cocked to one side.

"So, what do you reckon, Detective?" he asks playfully, shaking Dave experimentally like a wet rug pulled out of muddy waters. "Someone here has really _bad, bad _manners and deserves the Devil's wrath, wouldn't you say?"

"Lenn go of me, annnhole!" Dave demands, legs kicking in the air, gripping the Devil's' hand that holds him up high with both of his. "Lemme down! On I'll habb me dad's layner sue nou fon hanannment!" His bleeding nose swells rapidly. _Good_, Chloe thinks, _good for the girl that she can look back on a bit of success in defending herself. _

Lucifer's eyes go wide in mock offense, a broad satanic grin spreads across his features. "_Ooooh! _And _now _you think that the Devil's afraid of your Daddy's _wallet_, do you? Look who's talking! Harassment, _really?_"

Lucifer's gaze flickers down to the girl on the ground to check on her. She slowly gets to her knees, then gets up, looking up at him as if she's having a vision.

"_Hell-o?" _The Devil drawls and turns his attention back to Dave, jolting him a bit higher. "Pot - kettle calling! What do you reckon I should do with him, Detective?"

She feels white-hot anger boiling in her stomach. She _knows _guys like Davie-boy all too well, from her actress days as well as from her days on the force: They are full of themselves up to the brim, full of "I'll get away with anything" based on invisible but undeniable privileges. And not least of all, full of daddy's or mommy's money to get them out of every tight corner they may have brought themselves into - always without a scratch where other less well-pampered (and often dark-skinned) boys of similar age would go to jail instead!

So, instead of telling Lucifer off, she steps forward and puts her arm around the shivering girl who desperately tries to straighten her long, black braid and close her ruined blouse. She lets her jacket glide from her shoulders and puts it around the girl whose teeth now chatter audibly in the aftershock.

She decides that studying Lucifer in his element is _just _what the doctor ordered to adjust to her new reality. She'll just keep an eye on him.

To be able to stop Satan in his tracks. _Hilarious._

"Well, since I'm not on duty tonight, as my attackers have so kindly reminded me", she points towards the heap of Greg and Matt, moaning now near-syncron on the ground, "and since you're the expert on punishment here, _Lucifer_" she gives a little playful bow towards him, stressing his name, "I'd say you _educate _them that sexual harassment and attempted mass rape is _still _a crime!"

"_Lovely!" _Lucifer grins delightedly at her as if she's handed him his favorite old, matured whiskey. He gives her and the girl a little old-fashioned bow which looks funny with the attacker still hanging from his outstretched arm.

He turns back to his captive, investigating Dangling-Dave more closely.

"So, where were we? Ah yes! Selecting the right punishment for your bad behaviour, young man! You see, I'm generous tonight. You can choose one of two options: Either I put you over my knee here in front of your gang and give you the spanking of your life, a treatment that may have been due when you were five and pulled out your little sister's hair, OR you can look deep into the Devil's eyes and _feel _what you've done!" The Devil gives him another shake. "It's up to you!"

"How- how do you _know _that I pulled out my sister's hair?" he hears Dave croak, perplexed and now more and more fearful. "Oh, _that _was just a good enough guess, knowing your kind!" Satan chuckles.

But now, at the prospect of having their leader humiliated, his gang has finally recovered from Lucifer's sudden appearance and his unmistakable display of supernatural strength. They grumble, hiss and move forward on him like a group of hyenas, seeking for a weakness or flank to attack, with tentative "Let go of him, Mister, or we'll show you!" and "Let's beat him up and vanish!" thrown randomly at him by the braver of them.

Chloe feels the girl go rigid with fear in her embrace as the mob gathers its wits. She moves her further backwards, out of harm's way, whispering to her. "Don't be afraid." She smiles reassuringly, rubbing circles on the girl's back. "Lucifer is stronger than an entire army, he's a skilled fighter. (She suddenly knows that this must be true, although she's not thought of it before.) She feels how a bout of laughter bubbles up in her chest.

"Let's step back, sit down and rather enjoy the show!" The girl looks at her unbelievingly as if she's lost her mind, but finally does as she instructs. They both sit down on a series of nearby boulders. They are still a bit warm from the sunny day, she notes.

Lucifer sighs like the drama queen he often is at the gang members. "Oh, bloody Hell! You miscreants are interrupting my punishment! You will get yours sooner or later, too, don't you worry. But if you insist, you'll come first. How _greedy _of you!" Chloe notes that his features and demeanor have gotten darker, sharper, purposeful, despite his playful tone. His eyes glisten in the starlight, she can't tell if it's out of fun or a prequel to morphing into hellish red. _Maybe both_, she thinks.

"He- he's just sounds annoyed, not afraid!" the young woman whispers under her breath with wide eyes, as if she cannot believe it, not when he's outnumbered like that.

Chloe chuckles. "That he is, and it is _not _a good idea to annoy the Devil. I'm Chloe, by the way, Chloe Decker. LAPD."

"I'm Karima," the girl whispers back, "Karima Shrestha. And I'm _forever _grateful that you and your beautiful husband came to my rescue..."

A shiver that runs down Chloe's spine that has nothing to do with the cold night breeze.

When the first lad attacks, Lucifer lets Nosebleed-Davie drop into the sand like a sack of foul potatoes. The lad tries to kick at Lucifer's shins but fails, as the Devil dances elegantly out of his reach.

Dave hisses in anger at missing, his handsome face contorted into an ugly mask of rage. He starts to sneer and cheer on his buddies instead to take on Lucifer.

The latter, however, has the time of his life.

He swiftly and elegantly ducks the first attacker, grips his opponent by the neck and holds him in front of the next man, who's swinging his fists so that number one takes the full impact of no. 2's blow and goes down with a grunt.

The Devil dances around the third man, cannily leaning back his lanky frame just a tiny little bit. Thence No. 3 misses him and crashes into number two with the full impact of his own momentum. Then Lucifer knocks number four to the ground with a short, precise blow, grips number five and pimple-face and knocks their heads together.

Unsurprisingly, it sounds hollow.

Karima besides her gives a short, suppressed laugh, then covers her mouth with her hands as if she cannot believe that it came from her.

Chloe can hear Lucifer giggle, hum and comment under his breath on the not-at-all challenging, clumsy strategy of his attackers while he whirls around. Oh, my! He is a sight for sore eyes, her Devil is! She's never seen him fighting before, but it is plain clear to her that he has eons of experience - and that he's holding back so much of his supernatural strength. Each movement is precise and sparingly as that of a surgeon in a delicate operation.

Seeing him fight has a beauty of its own, she thinks. _I'll make sure that I'll see more of it in the line of our future work..._

When all opponents are down not even 60 seconds later, Lucifer dusts himself off, straightens his jacket and picks up attacker number one.

She anticipates what is coming.

"Do you _really _think that chasing and assaulting girls is proper behaviour?" he growls in a low voice, while shaking number one guy by his collar. She feels Karima shiver. A foreboding chill runs down her own spine. _Should she intervene?_

Lucifer's back is turned towards them, he faces the ocean. His voice has changed, has assumed the deep, scary subsonic resonance that reverberates in her and makes the air around them thicken like a deadly concoction.

He leans towards the man in his grip who suddenly starts to scream and wail, arms and legs flailing uselessly. "No, _nooooo!_ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I_'m so sorry! _I'll never do it again! Please don't hurt me! _Please, I_…!"

Lucifer does not bother with him too long, the waiting list calls. He grips him tightly by his collar and waistband and hauls him in an impossibly wide arch into the darkness, his path marked acoustically by all the wailing.

She hears a hefty splash and a little squeak which tell her that No. 1 has gone down for an involuntary bath. She can hear him cursing and splashing around in the dark, some 20 to 30 meters behind the shoreline where the water is deep enough for a plunge.

The other miscreants follow via the same flight route either one by one or sometimes two simultaneously after going through the same protocol. She notes that Lucifer places them neatly in a line well behind the area where the waves break when he throws them, avoiding them crashing into each other. _How nice of him! _

She thinks that she should probably praise the Devil afterwards, to encourage this kind of thoughtful behaviour. Wait! _What the Hell am I thinking...?_

Meanwhile, Dave _I'm my Daddy's-boy_ had gotten the message and taken to running for the hills, or rather the dunes.

Unsurprisingly, Dave is no match for Satan at all, and she gets an eyeful of how fast Lucifer can be if he wants to.

The Devil strolls back nonchalantly, with Davie-the-sad-sack tucked firmly under his right arm. The assaulter's backside protrudes forward and his legs kicking useless in the air while he tries to hit Lucifer's back. The Devil seems completely unfazed by his floundering captive, exuding gleeful cheerfulness as he strolls towards the ladies.

"So, young man, where were we, when your little bunch of miscreants so rudely interrupted your forthcoming punishment? Ah yes! I gave you a choice! A good old-fashioned spanking or Devil's eyes."

He ogles the backside of the kicking legs thoughtfully from above, as if a little bit indecisive, while Dave splutters and curses in the Devil's grip to no avail, alternating between pleading and threatening in fast succession. "But you know what? I think the deal's off - you'll _get your undoubtedly overdue discipline the hard way_."

She hears the glee in his voice and she knows what he means by "the hard way", promptly confirmed by Lucifer's next words. "It's the Devil's face for you, so that you will _deeply think _about what you have done, young man."

Lucifer puts the assaulter back onto his feet, carefully positioning himself so that his back is towards Chloe and Karima. Then he grips the gang leader tightly and pulls him closer. "Look at me," he growls. The air grows thick and dark, the time seems to slow down.

When Dave refuses, his voice grows even darker, gaining a resonating, commanding tone she has not heard of him before. It is not loud but rather dangerous, powerful. "_LOOK. AT. ME!_"

The beach seems to shake beneath them in an earthquake of divine _will_.

The next thing she knows is that Dave howls and screams as if he's haunted (and she knows he is). His pleading and wailing fills the air, together with a sudden strong smell of _pissoir_.

Lucifer crouches down to the sobbing heap on the ground in front of him. From her perspective, his dark, curly head vanishes below his shoulders because he bows down for the finale.

She knows without seeing that he changes into his devil form.

Dave's shrieks tells her all she needs to know.

"_I'll never do it again, I promise, no, noooo, please, please! S...sorry, I'm soooo sorry! Please, pleeeease, don't hurt me, don't…." _The rest is lost in uncontrollable wailing.

Lucifer finally straightens up and she can see his dark curly hair again. She's relieved - for the girl in her care - that he's back to his human form. _Does he dose the amount of Devil face, to allot the dosage to the intended effect that it can have on humans?_ She's suddenly sure that he does, somehow. _Can he control that way if people go mad, or if they can recover? _She needs to ask him later.

Lucifer straightens his cufflinks whilst looking down at the heap on the ground. His voice has lost its glee and anger, it is dark but rather pensive and distant.

"I dearly hope you learned your lesson, lad. It is not too late for you to escape Hell in your afterlife, you know. But continue down the dark path you're on, and you sure as Hell book your one-way ticket to eternal damnation. _Alright-y?_"

Then he straightens, dusts off an imaginary spec on his suit, rubs his hands together and strolls towards the two ladies in front of him, grinning happily from ear to ear.

"Well, that was fun, Detective! Educational punishment is so _refreshing_ compared to… well, my old job," he adds with a side glance to the girl.

Behind him, she can hear the gang members curse and splash as they try to leave the cold water, while Dave sounds like a cross between a mewling cat and a rusty old door swaying on its hinges. She should look after him but cannot bring herself to approach the miscreant. Besides, she feels that they rather need to tend to the victim and bring her back home safely.

Karima snuggles a bit into Chloe as Lucifer comes closer, tall, dark, looming and looking smug as you please, with not a bead of sweat on his forehead.

Chloe squeezes her reassuringly while Lucifer smiles softly, first at her, then at the assaulted girl - one of his more genuine smiles, she notices. Then he pulls off his own jacket to place it elegantly around Chloe's shoulders, since she has given hers to Karima.

Of course the girl tries immediately to give the jacket back to Chloe, but it is Lucifer who speaks. "No, no, leave it on, please, I'm absolutely fine. Nothing better than a bit of sports for a nighttime warm-up. And I've got a _hellish _metabolism, I can assure you." Lucifer chuckles.

"Thank… thank you both, so much, for s-saving me," Karima stammers, eyes still wide, head slightly bowed, surveying him earnestly through long black lashes that rival his. Her lips tremble and her eyes dart to Chloe to seek reassurance. "Are you… really a detective?"

She smiles. "Yes, I am…."

"And a very good one, I might add. She's the best!" Lucifer injects, beaming proudly. "Allow me to introduce myself. Lucifer Morningstar, her civilian consultant. Shall we head towards the parking place nearby? Detective, you may want to lend me your phone so we can call a cab for…?" He raises his eyebrow questioningly.

They start to walk towards the dunes, back to…_ well, her life before all the revelations_, Chloe thinks.

"My- my name is Karima Parvati Shrestha," the girl lisps back, head still bowed, following suit as they walk away from the discarded mob.

"Fine, Karima, shall we get you back home, then? I'd say we'll call a cab for you, right, Detective? Or do we need to go through some police procedures first?" He cocks a questioning eyebrow at her, waving the phone Chloe has handed him to call a cab. Of course it's someone who owes him a favor.

Instead of answering, Chloe addresses the young woman. "If you want to press charges, Miss Shresta, we need to go to the precinct. And I recommend that you do. These men have probably attacked more people, more women in the past, haven't they?"

She nods, head still bent down. "Please, call me Karima. I think… you are right, detective Decker, they have. But I do not want to press charges. It never ends well when someone like me is up against…" her voice trails off. She clears her throat, leaving the rest unspoken.

When she feels that Chloe wants to object she continues her story. "We- we all visit the St. Benedictus High School in Beverly Hills."

Chloe lifts her brows. "Oh, that's the elite high school where all the actors and actress kids are send to, right?"

"Yes, detective, the same. I- well, obviously I do not belong there, but I got one of the few stipends they offer, due to my high grades in elementary school and several won science competitions. Although I am from lower downtown and my family is, well, neither rich nor famous." After a short pause, she amends, "We, I mean my family, would not have been able to afford a better education for me, therefore I went." She sounds almost apologetic, as if trying to excuse the fact that she took the stipend.

Right, Chloe thinks. _I obviously don't belong there. _She could relate, she remembers _exactly _how that feels when you're a teen and feel you don't belong. In her case, it was vice versa. She often felt that she did not belong into the acting world.

Later, in her line of duty, she's seen it all too often. Skilled young people with just the "wrong" skin colour, just the "wrong" family background or upbringing, staying below their potential because not everyone is self-confident enough to pursue their luck. Some need a little encouragement that they will never get.

"Miss Shrestha, you very _obviously _do belong where you will get the best education!" Lucifer huffs, indignantly on the girl's behalf. "I'd rather say that the dumber fraction of these miscreants," he points behind them, to a spot in the dark, "definitely do _not _belong at an elite school at all!"

It is the first time they can see a tiny smile break through on the girl's face like sunshine. "Well… one of those who attacked you, detective Decker, is the son of a rugby legend. Greg is the son of Thamar Jandahris. And Matt got his stipend because he's a football champ, his father is Allen Doorwood." She sighs.

"Would you like to press charges when I see to it that you get the best lawyer there is out there, Miss Shrestha?" Lucifer asks tentatively as they walk on the wooden path towards the parking lot. He waits a moment and when she doesn't respond, he interprets her silence correctly.

"It is not _you _who should feel guilty or ashamed, it is the attackers." He uses a soft melodious undertone that Chloe has seldom heard from him when they work together and face culprits. "You know that this is not your fault, do you?" Lucifer's warm brown eyes embrace the young woman. She sees how she swallows. A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. She looks downward, to the soil.

"M-Maybe it is, Mr. Morningstar, sir…" She gulps. "You see, I _refused _David. Three days ago, when he asked me to join him and his buddies for a party night. I- I suspected that they didn't have the best intentions… and my family is very traditional. And... and I don't like him anyway. He's always mean to younger children at school, he loves to laugh at the weak or those with, I don't know, thick glasses or some disability. And... and all the other girls are _pining _after him because he's…" she huffs in disbelief, "handsome and a _sports hero_. So _blonde._" The way she ejects the last words make it perfectly clear that she would not go out with him in a million years.

"So, I take it that Davie-boy did not like being put down by you, Miss Shrestha?" Lucifer asks. "Besides, I'm often told that I'm supposed to be blonde, but I like my dark hair." He smiles genuinely.

"No, he didn't. You know, I told him a half-truth to allow him to keep his face, if he wanted to in front of his friends. See, my father is dying. I don't like to lie to myself about it." She states it matter of factly and sighs deeply, a grown-up determination in her stance that told them clearly that she already bears the responsibility of an adult in her family.

"He's got pancreatic cancer, so it's just a matter of time, since we can't afford the more expensive treatments anyway. Therefore, I often work in one of the upper-class restaurants at the beach. To earn some additional money, since I'm the eldest, my two brothers and my baby sister are all younger. I told Dave that I had a shift there to earn money. Which was the truth, by the way."

She swallows, collects herself while they climb the last dune ridge before heading towards the parking lot. "Of course, he mocked me about having to earn money, and how it was stupid because my Dad… because he'd be gone soon, anyway. He thought it stupid that I wanted to 'invest' money into him… "She scoffs in disbelieve, then adds wisely, "He probably felt offended that I rejected him."

She inhales with a shudder and it sounds suspiciously like a sob, but when she continues, she sounds sarcastic. "Dave thought probably that I should melt into a puddle of _goo _because he, big famous body David, son of _Zachariya Krayer the famous actor_ had invited me…" her voice fades to a whisper.

"But… but...if… if I had accepted… maybe he wouldn't have…."

Lucifer suddenly stops in front of them abruptly so that they all come to a halt. "Miss Shrestha, please look at me," he says gently. Chloe thinks that his tone reminds her of the way he speaks to Ella - the same soft brotherly undertone he uses for "Miss Lopez".

Finally, the girl looks up into his eyes. They are of a warm liquid brown. His soft gaze embraces the young woman, wraps her in a blanket of protection.

"Miss Shrestha, you _do _know what would have happened, had you accepted his offer…?" he asks tentatively.

"I think... I do_…_" she whispers, then her eyes well up and she looks down to hide her emotions. Then she murmurs so quiet that Chloe can nearly not hear her words. "Why am I… not worth of just being asked out on a _real _date… and not - not just as a tool to make fun of... to humiliate...?"

In her voice is all the insecurity and desperation that accompanies the painful process of adolescence.

Chloe's heart flies out to the young woman.

"Why were you here, at the beach, and how did you come across that ugly… _boy group_?" she asks to distract Karima. She succeeds.

"I - with all the learning and working and caring for my Dad and my younger siblings, there is little time that remains for myself. I… was selfish. You know, I love reading, reading books about science history, and I love the beach. The endlessness of the Pacific that I know lies behind the shoreline. The twinkling stars… and they are easier to see at the beach, a bit away from all that L.A. light smog. So I come here sometimes to read a good book, hidden in the dunes, away from people who make… fun of me. Away from… my family."

My dying father and all the heartbreak, she does not say. She chuckles bitterly. "It's my kind of party - my _nerd _party," she adds, defiant. Chloe cannot help but relate.

"It… it was not me coming across them, they rather found me, they even sneaked up on me… I was listening to music on my ear buds while reading, but thank God (Chloe notes how Lucifer flinches briefly) one of them stepped onto a dry piece of wood. The sharp snap alarmed me. I looked up, saw them storm forward, let everything drop and ran."

For my life, she doesn't say. But it is clear that this was what she'd felt.

"What are you reading at the moment, Karima?" Chloe asks. Distraction has worked once, it may work again.

Karima swallows and blinks, encouraged by their undivided attention. "What I read at the moment is 'The Double Helix' from James Watson and Francis Crick." She twists her braid to collect herself. "It's - it's really _cool, _I mean the story of how they discovered the genetic code, you know." Her voice warms considerably towards her topic, she gestures lively with both hands.

Her demeanor reminds Chloe of someone… right! Their enthusiastic forensic scientist friend, she thinks.

"Although I cannot shake the feeling that Watson and Crick left Rosalind Franklin out of the story on purpose, and that Rosie's crystallographic images really contributed to deciphering…." The young woman stops dead in her tracks, her enthusiasm faltering as if she expects to be scolded for it.

"S-sorry, detectives, sometimes, ah no, often I get carried away like that." She crinkles her nose as if disgusted with herself. "I'm always just the little science nerdy-nerd, you know, just ignore me." Her voice wavers between being proud and being ashamed.

The Devil won't have it. "No need to apologize, Miss Shrestha, no need at all! Please, feel free to embrace your desires in our presence, I assure you that you are in proficient company in this regard." He exchanges a quick glance with Chloe. They both think of Ella.

"And you are right about Rosalind, by the way. She was a brilliant young scientist who died by far too early to defend her achievements." Lucifer's warm unblinking gaze engulfs the young woman who cannot take her eyes away from the Devil's.

The corners of his lips curl up slightly in true affection without the slightest hint of glee.

Suddenly, Chloe _knows _what he does, even before she can hear him ask the question. So far, she has only heard him ask it towards potential suspects or culprits, where the use of his powers always has something looming, dark, where his voice is often dripping in sarcasm.

This, _this_ is completely different - she can hear what his angelic desire power may have originally been, what it _could _be: His eyes are gentle, full of acceptance and warmth, offering a safe harbor for being _different_, for not to be _judged _before his lips form the words.

Karima's gaze becomes dreamy, her eyes locked with the warm eyes of the Devil.

"I- I want to become a medical doctor… a m-marine biologist… or even a f-forensic scientist… and use my … mental gifts to help people… not just… my own family, my father, but… but also... _all _people," she whispers shyly, breathlessly, as if it's something she shouldn't even _dare _to wish, as if it's not her _place _to wish for something so frivolous. Not her, the little nerd!

Chloe can almost feel physically how Lucifer releases the young woman from his spell. Gently this time, like setting down a toddler on the ground. He smiles softly, then starts to grin, his typical "I'm content with myself" Lucifer grin.

"_Marvellous_, Miss Shrestha! I just _happen _to know a newly founded Trust to help you live up to your dreams. You, young lady, are standing next to the newly installed president of the John-Decker Trust for the Underprivileged, Talented Or just Remarkable Youth, JD-TUTORY for short," he gestures at Chloe, whose eyes widen in surprise. "And I'm _sure _that your application will receive the attention it deserves, so you may want to give it a try." He grins happily at his own wit.

_John-Decker Trust?_ So, he _had _already founded the Trust and named her the president, determined to leave her and his life in L.A. behind… she shivers.

She knows that he does not lie. He just bends the truth a bit, occasionally... John Decker _TUTORY, really? _Despite her epiphany of how far his plans to leave her behind had gone, she cannot help but smile, appreciating the generous… _Angel _that he is. For her, at least.

She tries to recover as quick as she can, then she throws a knowing, piercing smile at Lucifer - challenge accepted! She's going to up their game and see how he reacts, turning towards the young woman.

"Karima, we've got a colleague who will probably _love _to have you as an assistant for her daily lab work, she could really use some help. Lab assistant at the LAPD is a well-paid job. It would allow you to drop the waitress job and at the same time provide you with an opportunity for an internship preceding studies - she's a forensic scientist at our department. Of course we'll have to ask her first if she wants to take you," she cautions, but she feels how she warms up to the idea herself.

He immediately jumps onto her train of thoughts, she has to give him that credit. "That's such a _brilliant _idea, Detective! I'm absolutely sure Miss Lopez will be _delighted_. She's is simply the best at her job, and the entire LAPD knows it!" he explains towards Karima, beaming.

The young woman's eyes go wide like saucers, her features lit up tentatively, inch by inch. "You... you would really do that for me?" she asks.

Finally, a real, heartfelt smile after all the angst transforms her features.

Chloe hears the little sharp intake of breath from Lucifer at her side, expressing what she feels herself, as Karima's face morphs into something in between the beauty of the sunset at the south rim of the grand canyon, and a sea of annual flowers in the desert after a saturating rainfall. By a strange caprice of nature, her features transform by smiling from "average Indian girl" into "absolutely stunning beauty". She seems to glow from within.

Karima steps forward hesitantly, arms slightly raised. The Devil, however, bends the same fraction backwards, obviously to escape a potential looming hug.

Chloe has anticipated his move and before this can become awkward, she leans forward and embraces the girl tightly, feeling her shiver and smile against her shoulder.

She could _swear _that she hears Lucifer sigh in relief, though.

_Why is he always so hesitant when it comes to little affectionate touches,_ she muses as she releases the young beaming woman. She's so acquainted to his behaviour, so familiar with it, it's absolutely predictable - for her.

The question, however, still remains, nagging at the back of her mind: Why is he so hesitant? Or is he even afraid…? Afraid to touch people affectionately? He's the Devil, for Heaven's sake! He's freakishly strong and powerful, she's had plenty of evidence over the course of this magical night, thank you very much! It doesn't add up, like, at all. Why, why? She's determined to find out at some stage.

"Are you sure you don't want to press charges?" she asks the girl tentatively. Karima shakes her head. "No. But…" she hesitates.

"You fear that they will not stop harassing you in school? Or make you pay for the punishment they received?" Lucifer finishes her sentence for her. The fear in her eyes confirms his suspicions.

He exchanges a dark, determined glance with the Detective, focusing back on the young woman. "Rest assured that they won't dare. And _just _in the unlikely case that the devilish lesson they were taught tonight was insufficient, please do not hesitate to give the Detective or me a call, straight away." He captures her gaze and she looks at him like a doe caught in the headlights. "Do I have your word that you will do that, Miss Shrestha?" Her large brown orbs dip into his through long lashes.

Slowly, she blinks, then nods. "I will, Mr. Morningstar, Sir. Detective Decker," she promises solemnly, putting her right hand to her heart and bowing her head towards each of them in turn. Then she puts her hands together in front of her chest and bows graciously, too overwhelmed by feelings to put them into words.

Lucifer's eyes sparkle with joy. "_Excellent!_" he beams at her as she straightens up again. "Just think of me as your guardian Devil, Miss Shrestha, will you?"

The honking of a horn interrupts them. They look down towards the parking lot and see that the cab that Lucifer has ordered has arrived and waits to take the young woman home, it stands next to Chloe's lonely car plus a few more that populate the parking lot.

Lucifer goes ahead of the small group light footed, his white shirt shimmering in the moonlight, to exchange a few words with the driver who has gotten out of the car. It is an unusual car for a cab driver, a red Tesla Model S, Chloe notes.

She can see Lucifer and the driver talk animatedly to each other as she and the young woman come closer. She notes how Lucifer tries to hand the man a wad of cash which he obviously refuses to take, looking slightly offended.

The dark-skinned, 6 foot tall giant of a driver is nearly as tall as Lucifer, nevertheless it is clear from their body language that he literally looks up to the Devil. The driver has the good-natured smile of a teddy bear, despite his swelling muscles and square built. Somehow, he reminds her of Amenadiel. Who is Lucifer's brother… gosh, and an Angel. She still needs to wrap her head around it.

And she needs to ask about Angel genetics at some point (question No. #22 on her list).

"This is Cassius Knightley," Lucifer introduces the driver to them when they catch up, "He will see to it that you are safely delivered home, Miss Shrestha." Knightley smiles broadly at the girl, nodding to Lucifer's words.

"I will," he simply responds. "I owe Lucifer big time, and besides, my youngest girl is just your age," his eyes twinkle as he holds the door open for Karima, "and I'm _grateful to God_ (Lucifer winces) every night she's back home safely. So hop in, Miss Shrestha, and you'll be home in no time!"

Karima turns to Chloe to thank them again and pull off her jacket, but Chloe stops her. "Please keep it - you can give it back to me when you start working for Ella - Miss Lopez, I mean." She smiles, pulls Lucifer's suit jacket around her demonstratively and urges the girl to get into the passenger seat. Karima finally obliges, murmuring her thanks repeatedly.

Knightly closes the passenger seat door and gets into the driver's seat, nodding at them reassuringly, smiling his broad smile. Karima turns to wave at them as he starts to drive away.

It is surely to be blamed on her state of fatigue, but it escapes her before she can think straight.

"I think tonight, I was saved by... the Devil and… and his Detective, Mr. Knightly," she murmurs.

_Oh wow, you've got no brain-mouth filter at all, Karima, do you,_ she thinks.

Knightly regards her solemnly as he pulls onto the main road, away from the parking lot, completely unfazed, accelerating the Tesla firmly but still gently with its typical unrestrained silent power.

The driver starts to grin, then chuckles. "You know, I'm quite sure you were, Miss Shrestha," he replies warmly.

His teddy bear eyes twinkle at her with a shared secret. "And so was I."

Then he focuses back on the road, hums contently and turns on the music. A soft song fills the cab.

_Devil may care. _


	8. On Devil Dosage, Punishment & Redemption

**Chapter 8 - On Devil-face dosage, punishment and redemption **

Lucifer and Chloe watch the cab go. She has her hand slightly raised in salute while leaning into his side. She can feel his warmth engulf her, although he only wears this thin white shirt while she has the insulation benefit of his Italian wool jacket. It's on her tongue to ask him if his body temperature is above that of humans (question no. #34 on her list) when he breaks the silence, sounding reluctant and a bit sad.

"Shouldn't I accompany you home, too, Detective?" Lucifer asks as if he's averse to the idea. "I assume that you need to rest."

She thinks she knows what his point is, and honestly, she also does not want this night to end, even though she really, _really _starts to feel its toll on her by now.

She smiles at him wearily. "As tired as I am by tonights... events, I'd like to document the evidence of Karima's story, just because. She must have sat in the dunes near our initial spot on the beach, or a bit more to the left I guess. There will be the book, footprints and stuff, all confirming her story. You know, I'd just like to take precautions. It wouldn't be the first time that it's the attacker who lawyers up and tries to assault the victim again, for a second time, via the courts. And I'm not going to allow _that _to happen." She sounds grim, and Lucifer hums in agreement.

Finally, she looks down to her feet and sighs. "Oh dear. It seems that we _still _haven't managed to retrieve my boots, can you believe it?" She wiggles her toes in the sand and gives a tired little laugh. "Meanwhile, I'm prepared to leave them behind as a tribute to Devil airlines. Or to the magic of the night… "

Lucifer scoffs. "Oh no, no, no, Detective, I won't have that," he protests. "I insist that we retrieve them, and retrieve them we will. You do not want to litter the beach, do you? It would be a bad example for young Beatrice! Besides, we'll find and document the evidence we need, if this is what you desire?"

He sounds relieved at her inquiries, confirming her suspicions.

_He does not want this night to end_, she thinks. _And neither do I. _

After a moment of thought he adds, "I'd also like to check on the gang of miscreants, just to make sure that my lessons _stick_." He hisses the last word with Earth-shaking, air-vibrating power. All hairs on her arms stand up.

Then his tone gets lighter, playful even. "We won't let the hard work of our educational efforts go to waste, would we now?"

"No, definitely not!" She grins at him, feeling suddenly years younger, defying rules as she did when she was full of life and joy, careless… like, before her father had died. She should go home, she should sleep and be responsible… but rather, she wants to stay up and savour every minute with the Devil!

The spontaneous _me_, it only comes with Lucifer, she notes in wonder. _How could I ever think that Marcus, Cain, had anything to do with it?_

She wrinkles her nose. _Where's the responsible adult now, Chloe? Did you lose her somewhere over the ocean, playing plunge and kiss with the Devil?_

It's the one thing about Lucifer that she's always loved - that he brings out that playful, unrestrained side in her, sets it free from a place where she has buried it deep, deep down, in her soul's basement.

As they reach the highest point of the dunes, he summons his wings with practiced ease which fan out behind him with the impressive, now familiar _swoosh. _They immediately touch a string in her soul with their melodious humming. Her traitorous fingers _itch _to explore him again.

"So, off we go, hiding in plain sight in the skies, Detective, shall we?" He spreads his arms invitingly. His smile is so hopeful yet cautious that it squeezes her heart.

He shouldn't be afraid of her abandoning him. He shouldn't have to doubt, he should be _sure _of her wanting to be with him.

She turns around to signal her consent, and revels in his careful embrace and his warmth. She smiles and makes sure that he can hear it in her voice. "Very well, Sir. Ready for take-off, my safety belt is fastened." She pats his arms that are wrapped around her breast and midriff to indicate what she means.

He chuckles in response, his lips touch her earlobe. "Fine, go on Detective, give the horse a pat, _Lucifer likes!_" he purrs.

His feathers rustle as he arranges them for take-off.

He starts effortlessly against the steady breeze blowing inwards from the ocean to the land, almost without flapping his wings. They soar, carried upward by the upwelling air currents.

She turns her head and kisses his upper arm (the part she can reach) and feels his lips pressed gently to the top of her hair in return.

The Devil-Decker bird of prey watches from above, hovering unseen about 30 meters above the dunes.

Finally, a battered, subdued, dripping-wet army of assailants scuffles towards the parking lot beneath them, cursing and panting. A babbling, stricken Dave stumbles behind them.

"Will the assaulter recover?" she whispers before she thinks it through.

His voice murmurs softly in her ear. "Yes, he will eventually, Detective. I brought him to the brink of insanity, but I did not push him beyond. Please do not burden yourself by spending a single thought for this piece of garbage, he's not worth it."

She watches the procession below, then asks before she can change her mind. "Can you- can you dose your... effect on… humans when you reach out like you did? How- how does it even work? And- and does it help? I mean, letting them see your Devil eyes, or face, does it make them… do better?"

After a moment of silence she's getting nervous that he might not want to share. Finally, she feels his chest that's pressed to her back rumble in response.

"To answer your first question, yes, I can dose it, Det… Chloe."

She feels him sigh and regrets for a moment that she's asked. But he continues without further hesitation. He _wants _her to know.

"Looking into my eyes gives them a true glance into their potential future, of where they will go when they die," he supplies, silently. "Since my fall, I carry the principles of Hell inside me. My eyes, my devil face, they both are a part of… who I am, Detective."

He sounds reluctant, as if the very last thing he wishes her to know is _this_.

But he's a Devil of his word - honesty it is, for her.

His heat-baked desert plains of emotional loneliness has received the first drops of rainfall. Of compassion, not pity. Her compassion. It wrings her heart, it shakes her soul. But she will not stop raining it down on him. Not in her lifetime.

"Tell me, Lucifer", she whispers softly, kissing the part of him she can reach, his muscular arms that hold her. "Please. Tell me all about you. I- I want to know the whole you."

She can hear him take a shivering breath, feel him nod in agreement. She gently caresses his forearms, enjoying the steely muscles under her touch.

"My- my eyes do to culprits what Hell does: They amplify and echo their perceived guilt, giving them a taste of what may await them if they continue to wallow in evil, in misdeeds." He sighs, angling his wings so that he glides forward without flapping them.

Further inland, a keewit sends its weeping cry into the moonlit night.

"To answer your third question, Detective, I assume that about half of the young men will abandon their evil ways. So, yes. My punishment helps a bit, but only a few of them, at best. The other half will continue down their chosen path, after convincing themselves that they imagined it all; that I'm just a figment of their alcoholic or drug induced imagination, a heroine horror trip; and that nothing of it all was real." He sounds resigned, bitter even.

He starts the downglide. Finally, she also spots Karima's reading place. There is Karima's book, half of it buried in the sand, a blanket, a half-empty bottle of water and a pair of slippers. A lot of footsteps lead down from a southern crest into the little valley, all pointing into the same direction. The prints tell the story of a violent attack that make her shiver.

She wrestles out her phone from her front pocket and snaps pictures while Lucifer holds them steady over the abandoned campsite, flapping his wings occasionally.

They touch down with ease on a dune crest above the campsite. Lucifer releases her reluctantly and her feet sink into the sand.

It is cold meanwhile, she notes. The night's chill creeps into her body and she immediately misses his comforting warmth. She pulls his jacket closer around herself.

He strolls away on the dune crest, hands in his pants pockets. She documents everything she can with her mobile. Unfortunately, her evidence bags and gloves are in her jacket which she gave Karima. She sighs and decides to ask Ella to come to this spot in the morning to secure the crime scene and retrieve all the items, just in case.

Since they are all on paid leave until the sinnerman swamp is sorted out by the feds, her friend will likely agree to help out with her skills.

After she's finished, she joins Lucifer. His slender figure clad in the white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves is stands tall against the dark sky, gently illuminated by the moonlight. Sadness seems to roll off him in waves as he looks out over the Pacific ocean, deeply in thought.

She steps close to him, touches his arm. "Hey," she says gently. He turns his head towards her, but his smile does not reach his eyes. "You still think about the group of harassers, do you?" she asks.

He slowly nods, his glance embracing the vastness of the ocean again.

"They have what I never was granted, Detective." He swallows. "They have the privilege of free will, to decide which path to take, at least as long as they live. But look what they do with their gift…. a gift for which I paid a horrendous price."

"Often enough, men like that misuse their gift of freedom to cut and manipulate the free will of others. They strive for power and dominance, leaving a wake of destruction behind. Men who lead a _successful _life by human standards (he spits out the word as if it was obscene), who become 'highly respected members of society', judges, lawyers, CEO's, whatever…. well, in the end, many of them inevitably populate Hell's realms and cells. What a monumental waste of the gift of free will… ".

All she can offer is the anchor of her presence. She snuggles into his side, pulls his arm around her shoulders. How anyone can _ever _think that the Devil collects souls is beyond her.

After a while she can feel the tension bleed out of his frame. He pulls her closer and she can feel a shiver wack his frame that has nothing to do with the cold night breeze.

"I- I am absolutely relieved that… seeing my face did not damage you, Chloe." She can feel his arms tighten around her with a kind of desperation, he trembles and kisses her hair in relief.

She nearly misses his murmur. "I- I was deeply in punishment mode when you saw me, so I feared for the worst… most humans go mad within seconds when they see my monstrous side."

There it is again: _I'm a monster!_

Will her lifetime enough to persuade him otherwise?

"No, Lucifer, no. First of all, you're not - not a monster, not to me! And then, I- I did not feel anything like… what you described. I was shocked, yes, but not… that. More like, "it's all true" and "oh God, is he in pain? How can my friend look so burned?"- Sorry for the constant slipping, by the way. I promise I'll become better!" She chuckles to lighten the mood.

She hears him huff a soft laugh. "I can assure you that your reaction to my face is not - the usual one, Detective."

"Could it have something to do with my… miracle status thingy, then?"

He ponders that for a moment. "Maybe. Anything is possible when it comes to you…. _Chloe_." The warmth in his eyes and voice fills her being with song.

Finally they find her boots where they had played half a lifetime ago. Or just a few hours.

She sits down and puts them on, smiling up at him. He smiles back, but again it does not reach his eyes. He's still in thought, broody.

A distraction then. She clears her throat. "Would you really have _spanked _the young man, Lucifer? Since you gave him that choice? Or was it just to mock him?" she asks, curious, and just a tad disapproving in general.

He cocks an eyebrow at her. "Why, yes, of course I would have, Detective." He chuckles (distraction accomplished, she thinks). "Three centuries ago, this kind of punishment was the height of fashion!" His eyes crinkle at the edges which tells her that he knows very well that it is not, nowadays.

"As much as I appreciate today's shift towards other more creative forms of punishment, Detective, in this particular case, a good spanking might have done the trick." He holds out his right hand, mimicking a slap. Then he sighs, glances at her raised eyebrows, then adds reluctantly.

"Oh, very well. If not for him than at least for his victim."

He extends his hand to her, sitting on the beach with her boots on. She lets him lift her up in one swift movement.

They start walking towards the dunes, back to the parking lot, back into her normal life. Aren't they? She feels a kind of foreboding that she cannot really place.

"I know that you neither accept nor use these forms of punishment with your off... your daughter, Detective. To be honest, I'm glad that these ministrations are, nowadays and in this part of the world, mostly restricted to pleasurable, consensual activities in the bedroom."

He smirks lasciviously and she cannot help herself but feel heat rush into her cheeks and southward - even with these truly _ew, gross _things! He oozes so much sensuality from every pore of his very being, that the underlying promise to explore unknown sexual territory sends a jolt of excitement though her.

All she can do to keep her composure is to scoff and grace him with her _Devil-behave-yourself _eyeroll. She's going to get it patented at some stage..

To her own surprise it is effective this time. His smile fades and he becomes serious again. Unfortunately, the broodiness is back too, he's becoming darker.

"Believe me Detective when I say that the medieval ages with all of these very corporal punishments were a special hardship... when I had to attend to these… _desires _for punishment." His eyes are deep black pools of ancient memory, as if a heavy burden presses him down. She shivers when she thinks of what "I had to" may imply, for him. She pulls his jacket closer around herself.

He shakes himself like a wet cat, wings shivering and flaring, feathers puffed up in annoyance. "Did- did those parents not love their children, back then…?" she asks in a tiny voice.

"Oh, but they did. Most did, some did not, as always over the millennia. Quite the same as today. But up to the 17th to 18th century, one wrong move, or disrespecting the wrong person, may easily have gotten you killed. Therefore, parents mostly considered it the smaller evil to..." he chuckles humorlessly, "to put the _fear of God_ and superiors into their children by spanking or flogging them in response to transgressions. Better a red backside than dead was the motto these days. Do you know the biblical proverb, Detective?"

Lucifer's voice drips with sarcasm, answering his own question. "A man who loves his son does not spare the rod," he scoffs. "You might say that it was particularly applied to me, in a way." He gestures with his index finger to circle his face. It makes her tremble when she thinks about what she's read, what he might have endured. _A lake of sulfur and fire_.

Her heart shatters and fills with boiling rage, both on his behalf at the same time.

She almost misses his next words.

"Punishment it was, for me. Only without the love part…"

Before she can respond, his foot knocks over the empty cookie box that Trixie has prepared for him. Chloe bows down and picks it up to take it home with her to the trash, or to recycle it.

Thinking of her daughter reminds her of one more of all the questions on her list. One last questions on their way back home into a normal life (or as normal as a life with Satan as her partner will be!). Or so she thinks.

One last question, just to stay a little longer in their magical night of shared thoughts and secrets, of Heaven and Hell revelations.

"How come you do not like children, Lucifer?" she inquires. "You are so adorably awkward around them. Why is that? I guess there are no children in Hell, are there?"

She thinks it's an innocent enough question. Surely there _can't _be children in Hell!

She would _never _have posed it, had she known what darkness would follow as his story entwines.


	9. The Devil's broken Hallelujah

**Chapter 9: The Devil's broken Hallelujah**

Lucifer scoffs and looks slightly offended. "First of all, let me state that I'm certainly _not _adorable_!" _

"Oh, but you so are…" Chloe chuckles.

"And then, well, children are just… weird, for me that is. I don't understand them, they're fragile and cry ever so often. I- I might break them inadvertently, I'm not used to dose my strength to… to handle them. But..."

He looks away from her, over the ocean. His voice drops to a murmur, he tries to dig a stone out with his toe and when he succeeds he kicks it. It sizzles away like a rocket.

"There _were _children in Hell," he supplies with a dark rasp voice, as if he's sharing a secret.

And maybe he is. "Sometimes even little humans are quite evil. But it does not happen very often."

"When children turned up in Hell, Detective," he breathes, "it was mostly for a completely different reason…" His murmur is swallowed by the rhythmic swooshing of the waves that hit the beach.

She looks up and sees his Adam's apple bobb as he swallows.

Then he turns and faces her. "Do you really want to hear… more about... _Hell_, Detective?" he inquires, sounding suddenly desperate. "You see, there's no un-knowing once I've told you."

She turns to face him fully, to face her friend.

Satan. Lord of Hell. No. Her guardian Angel, who delights in saving her, saving… others. Even those stupid, cruel miscreants. By scaring them straight - if only they would take it.

She closes her eyes briefly, considers his words, nods.

"Yes, I've made up my mind, Lucifer. I want to know all about you, which means that… I guess… extended knowledge on Heaven and Hell will come along with the package, am I right?" She hates how her voice trembles.

"I lay this into your hands. Yes, I-I want to know more about you, about your... past, but, of course, I don't want to… push you, or be nosy or something. I- I promise that I will let you know when I think that I cannot handle it." She smiles up at him, trying to convey her trust in him despite a rising feeling of foreboding in her gut.

His black ancient eyes grow wide without blinking. Again, he takes her hand in his, bows his head and touches the back of her hand with his forehead in confirmation.

She recognizes the ancient confirmation-obedience gesture immediately. This time, the tingling sensation spreads through her entire body. It would be creepy if it wasn't so warm, so glowing, so comforting!

His lower lip trembles for a fraction of a second as he lets her hand go, then his lips are pressed together in determination. She sees him swallow, again.

"Very well, my love," he replies, then fells silent. He looks out over the ocean, a stiff upright statue. He hugs himself with his arms as if he's freezing. But she knows he isn't, at least not due to the night-time temperature.

When she thinks that he will continue to be silent, Lucifer begins to tell his story.

"When Hell was still young and less crowded - around the time humanity started to switch from the hunter-gatherer lifestyle to agriculture, about 12,000 earthly years ago - one of my head demons, Courgarr, approached me in my throne room."

The demon's name sounds rough, as if he's gurgling with sharpened marbles.

Chloe files away the information that he obviously _did _have a throne room in Hell - she still remembers his off-remark about "it's been ages since I last sat on a throne" - and listens with rapt attention.

"He reported that a new torture chamber had appeared, with the soul of a very young girl in it who had, at the time of her death, not yet developed into a woman, neither physically nor emotionally. Not that _he _could tell, really. But I could, later. Courgarr reported that she absolutely lacked the stench of true _guilt _that usually attracts demons, and that her hell loop - the illusion that the guilty make up for themselves to be tortured with - did also not point to any own guilt." Lucifer nods to himself. "Courgarr wanted me to explore the girl's cell, because it was a Hell-anomaly that the Demons, and also I, had never encountered before until then."

Chloe hooks her arm closer into the crook of his elbow and presses herself against his side. If she shivers from the cold nighttime breeze or rather from Lucifer's relived Hell memories, she can't say.

She looks up at him. Lucifer still peers out over the ocean, appearing millennia old, dark and ancient. He inhales deeply, then huffs out a sigh.

"So, I visited the girl's cell." She sees him clench his jaw. "She was about 9 years old when she had died," he explains. "She was dark haired and dark eyed during life, much like your daughter. Her name had been Amira which meant 'little butterfly' in their language. It turned out that Amira had been a temple virgin. At that time, people in the middle east - a predecessor culture to the Babylonians who came later - believed in several omnipotent Sun, War and Rain Gods who would take care of them, if they only made appropriate offerings. _Deals_ _with the Gods_, so to say."

Lucifer scoffs as she looks at him questioningly. "You know, the usual. New-born lambs or goats, white doves, white oxen, goose, or, as an exception during hard times, _virgin girls_."

Chloe gasps but remains silent.

"Not that any of us or my Father - I have to give him that credit - have ever encouraged such nonsense! Believe me when I say, Detective, that the love for making deals, offerings or sacrifices, to what humans claim is the respective Divinity they choose to believe in, is deeply ingrained into the human DNA. Hard to weed out - look at all the stupid terrorist business today! The nutters think that they are making an offering!" He sighs. "You may call that habit a creational flaw, if you so will."

She refrains from mentioning that he himself is the _master _of making deals. She wonders if Lucifer's inclination for deals came before humankind seeked them, or afterwards. However, when she thinks about the deals with him that _she _knows of, she has to admit that the cookie deal with her daughter was adorable at least and very generous at best.

And their honesty deal is… just so good for them, divine (pun intended). Maybe the best deal she's ever made. And the way he honours his deals, tries to fulfil them even if it costs him everything is breathtaking.

Perhaps there is more to his deal business than she has seen so far. She decides that she needs to pay closer attention to what his deals usually entrail and do to those who make them with him. The happy grin of Knightly the teddy bear swims into her mind as he drove away with Karima.

Unaware of her thoughts, Lucifer continues.

"I entered her cell and remained invisible for the little soul, so I could witness what had happened to her in life, péu-à-péu, over her various, slightly changing hell loops which she had created for herself."

Chloe's eyebrows creep up in question.

"Yes, detective, as you may have guessed already, this is how Hell works. Humans who feel guilty, and even those who _are _guilty but do not feel like it when they die, like psychopaths, go down."

"How? You just said they create their… what? Hell loops... only when they feel guilty…? So how can people go down who do not feel guilty?" she frowns.

He chuckles grimly. "Even the psychopath monsters of this world go down! The reason is in-built by design, you might say. All humans are born with the ability for, or with a sense of, justice, fairness and guilt. But in some, their sense for justice is buried deep down in their hearts as they grow up, be it due to bad parenting or by developing soul deformations of sorts, disfigurations of character. You must now that it does not mean that they _have _to commit evil acts when they have such a deformation, like, agonize animals or torture fellow humans. They still have a choice, as long as they live."

Lucifer chuckles humorlessly.

"You wouldn't _believe _how many humans who once were in power end up downstairs! Most of them are insisting, for quite some time after death, that they belong in Heaven, that they have _booked an automated ticket _to go to Heaven, just because they were kings, princesses, noble men or priests in life; or, nowadays, politicians, lawyers, doctors, filmmakers, whatever you please."

She nods, listens, shivers.

"But there is no mistaking the guilty, Detective, mind you: They _reek _of their guilt, and usually their soul's…" (he says the musical word again, then corrects himself) ..."er, aura shows it, absolutely fail-proof. No chance arguing or weaseling their way out of punishment. Although, they all try to argue with me, when they arrive and are brought before me by the Demons in charge. Some resort to begging and wailing, others resume to threatening me."

He chuckles, dark and amused like a cat who plays with a mouse.

No, she corrects herself. More like a black panther who plays with a cockroach.

"They tried to threaten me with the power they had in life," he growls darkly, "I loved those best." His voice takes on the chilling subsonic resonance that creeps into her bones.

Lucifer suddenly seems mightier than she's ever seen him - or is it just her newfound reality? She wonders if he's even suddenly grown two or three inches.

Suddenly, he's Samael, God's Poison, dark Lord of Hell who rules over his realm. A divine punisher. His eyes are pitch black and stare without blinking into his own past.

Chloe feels herself shrink; her fresh knowledge that he had indeed reigned over Hell, this abysmal realm she never believed in until now, hits her like a ton of bricks. Again.

He still peers out over the ocean, unaware of her state. The wind plays with a lock of his curly hair on his forehead. She sees a muscle in his jaw twitch as he clenches his teeth.

His voice softens as if he's sensed her freak-out, only it's clear that he didn't.

"For some inexplicable reason, Amira's soul had taken the wrong turn after she died, and her overwhelming, self-perceived guilt had pulled her downstairs, had created her torture chamber."

Suddenly he seems to come to his senses, and he morphes back into being Lucifer, her friend whom she knows, whom she cares for so deeply. He smiles sadly and a bit lopsided at her as he responds to her unspoken question.

"No, Detective, I am _not _the judge of you humans. I do not decide who goes down and who goes up," he says, softly. "You see, you humans send yourselves. But the little girl... her soul was clearly destined for Heaven."

"What… what had happened to her… for her soul to end up in Hell?" Chloe asks with a small voice and she thinks of Trixie. She's enraptured and, if she's honest, daunted. Her hands and arms seem to grow numb with a creeping cold.

Lucifer sighs, deeply. His voice is a dark, sad murmur against the ocean's song, vibrating in the night.

"Just an ugly story as old as time, Detective. A story which repeats itself all too often, over the millennia. Amira's mother had died when she was seven, during childbirth. It happened much more often, back then, than it does now. Amira's father was devastated and helpless. And the girl reminded him so much of his former beloved wife. To get his two younger sons and himself through, he sold his oldest child, Amira, to the temple."

Chloe makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, but Lucifer corrects her, offers ancient knowledge.

"It was a common practice back then for young and beautiful girls, Detective. It was perceived among these people as a noble offering that brought luck to the family who made it. And usually also the girls, they were not bad off. It was the dream of many young girls to become temple servants - you might compare it to nowadays' dreams to become a pop star or YouTube celebrity. They were allowed to learn much more than normal children, let alone girls at that time, and they were fed and clothed well, which was a luxury. The girls were not touched by men when they turned into women physically. They were considered sacred due to their temple service. Which was a blessing during a time when many girls were married to men at a very young age, and mostly without having a say in it, mind you."

Lucifer sighs, then scoffs. "That, by the way, was the simplistic reason why agriculture overtook the hunter-gatherer way of life, where both genders were more equal in their societal value. It was simply a higher reproduction rate with the agriculture way of life and the resulting urban lifestyle," he explains.

Chloe's eyes widen in surprise. Obviously, he's also her very own, personal walking and talking history encyclopedia, which might come in handy during cases. Also, he's a gifted storyteller, she will bear that in mind.

Only that his stories are true, and sad beyond measure. Maybe it's a bad idea to have him tell stories…

He continues without noting her musings.

"But back to what I discovered. Amira had been among the best-liked temple virgins. Even at her young age, she'd become an amazing musician, she played the flute and was a graceful dancer. She loved what she had learned and put her little soul into everything she did. All of this drew the attention of one of the male priests towards her, who even happened to be her mother's brother, her uncle. Who was considered a second father in that society, a person she was obliged to trust, respect and obey."

He sighs. "As you might have guessed, Detective, now that I've mentioned him, he went into her chamber one night and misused his position. He raped the girl." He closes his eyes and Chloe can see that the memory of what he'd seen in her torture chamber was still vivid for Lucifer.

She muses that he has eidetic memory and shudders when it dawns on her what that must mean, for him.

"I will spare you the details, Detective. She tried to fight him off, bit and scratched him, but to no avail. She knew she had to stay a virgin for the temple and on top of all the indescribable pain, fear and humiliation, she considered herself ruined, stained, for short: guilty."

His voice becomes deeper and resonant again, he growls like a lion. "Because the scumbag made it his mission to imprint his guilt on her - that her graceful movements, her beauty were the cause and that he, the good priest, was just oh so _tempted_. That it was _her _fault that he had lost control. Imagine that!"

"It's… it's unfortunately still an argument when rape is concerned, even nowadays. So often…" she croaks, her throat suddenly gone dry.

He nods. "I bloody know," he mumbles darkly.

Lucifer stoops down, picks up a flat stone as large as his palm and throws it with such force that it ditches onto the ocean's surface in wide arches. She counts 15 times until the stone whizzes out of sight. She wonders if it sinks under the surface at all or goes on like this forever.

"Amira did what most victims of abuse do, as you well know, Detective: She kept everything a secret because she felt dirty. It did not occur to her that it was not she who was guilty. I guess she was too young to question the authority of those who should have been her guardians. I... I do not exactly know when the ability to see deeper and question their surrounding default settings settles in in children. All I could sense was that she did not have this… ability, yet."

Lucifer bows down quickly and takes another stone from the beach. This time, he just throws it out over the ocean in barely restrained anger. She does neither see nor hear where it lands, it's swallowed by the darkness.

"Soon, the point in time came where she could no longer stand the situation, her Uncle's harassing, painful night-time visits. She… offered herself as a sacrifice during a particular fierce drought spell that threatened the harvest of her people. She knew that she was, in her own perception, unworthy for such an offering, but she clinged to the small hope that their Gods would be graceful, merciful, and accept her sacrifice nonetheless. She hoped that her… ultimate offering, the sacrifice of her own life, would annihilate the evil that had befallen her, that her own blood would wash her clean…."

"If she would have died in that hope, she would probably have gone to Heaven. Alas, the scumbag that was her uncle was not through with her. In an attempt to protect himself when he feared discovery of what he'd done, he exposed her and let the high priest know that she was not a virgin anymore, that she was stained, unworthy. He even had abysmal timing, he did it during the ceremony that she had hoped would carry her out of her misery. She- she cracked and jumped to her death from an edge of the temple. Even though she _knew _that suicide was considered a mortal offense, in stark contrast to self-sacrifice, with her people."

Lucifer pauses his painful story and exhales deeply. His tall black and white silhouette is a stark lively contrast against the moon-lit, starry sky. Chloe rubs her hands over her face, surprised to find it wet. His voice drops to a low rumble.

"You see, she desperately wanted to see her mother again… they were the words she used most, in her torture chamber: '_Mammy, please come and get me_.' Then her torturer would appear, again and again in her Hell loop, raping her, exposing her, indoctrinating her with guilt. It was... hardly bearable, even for me. And I had seen a lot, even when humanity was young," he adds bitterly.

He turns towards her, his face a mask of pain. "But that was not the worst, Detective… Chloe. The worst was what I discovered, through the misled little soul of Amira."

She sees him run his hands through his hair, tousling it even further. He hugs himself with his lean arms with the rolled-up shirtsleeves, she can see his muscles work as he grips his own arms, hard.

She wants to touch him, comfort him, but she does not dare to interrupt his story.

"As soon as I was sure that she did not belong in Hell, I stepped forward and tried to break her Hell loop. You must know that this is a hard thing to do. Hell amplifies the guilt that you feel like an echo wall and uses it against you. Hell's inhabitants who feel guilty do not listen to distractions, only to their own inner voice blaming them... And you must know that I am the only one who can break Hell loops at all."

After a moment he adds in a murmur, "or… well, my mother too, it seems…" His voice trails off, then he clears his throat, continues before she can ask.

"Demons cannot do that - and they won't. It is not in their nature or…" he scoffs, "job description to show mercy, or try and disentangle a soul from their guilt. Rather the contrary." he chuckles darkly.

"The only demon who is, well, was different in this regard is, as you might have guessed, Maze. She's not one who feels mercy as such, at least not down in Hell. But she supported me, always, when I had to get an errand soul out." He smiles grimly.

Chloe muses what "I had to" does mean in his context. She guesses she knows, because she knows him. It means something simple - that he cares. That he cannot stand injustice. Her heart swells with affection for him.

"So, one day, I made myself visible, in my human-like angelic form of course, approached the little soul's conjured torturer and smashed him, her picture of him I mean, into the wall." Lucifer chuckles darkly. "You will not believe how _good _that felt, Detective, even though it was not the real deal. At that time, I had already instructed my demons to take notes and identify the culprit when he would inevitably show up."

"I... I'm sure it felt good..." she whispers. "Did you get her out…? Amira's soul?"

He sighs and does not answer. Instead, he kicks another stone with his foot that also flies into infinite darkness with a swirling hiss like a rocket, followed by a cracking _boom_ when it breaks through the sound barrier(#). Maybe he's kicked it into earth's orbit, defying gravity, she thinks.

She does no longer put it beyond him.

"First, the girl's soul was of course glad that I had saved her. Naturally, according to Hell's law, it took several times and loop repetitions for it to sink in, where I smashed her torturer into the wall, stamped him into the floor, wrenched his bollocks or whatever you may imagine suits and soothes the victim."

She suddenly understands that he had punished Davie-the-handsome-shitsack in the way he did it - not just to have fun, or to send the lad a warning; but also to help Karima overcome her trauma, by seeing her attacker powerless.

"I nourished Amira's perception that _he _was the culprit, not her. She… she finally managed to fit me into her modified Hell loop, as one of her Gods who had come to her rescue; I did not bother to correct her.

She… she hung suspended between her guilt and the hope that I had managed to infuse into her loop. I felt that I was close to breaking it, _so _close!" He shows the distance of one inch between his fingertips, waving his hand animatedly.

He breathes heavily, as if he's run ten miles. Or flown across the US, maybe.

The silence stretches under the dark sky.

"What happened next…?" she whispers, mesmerized. She hardly dares to nudge him. He seems so painfully caught up in his own dreadful memories that her heart flies out to him.

"I… I made a horrible mistake, C-Chloe…" he breathes, his voice trembling. "When I thought that I had finally pushed through, I… opened my arms to her. My own wish...a- and also her desire to be comforted became just… overwhelming."

"Of course," she whispers, "why wouldn't you? That is only human... or… or Divine?"

He shakes his head. "No, it was NOT. I should have known better!

Self-loathing drips from his tongue like acid rain as his voice gains in strength and reverberates with anger. "It was an immensely stupid thing to do. I should have known that Hell held its own, special punishment - for me."

She sees him grit his teeth. He closes his eyes in pain and rubs his face in his hands, as if he's willing the memories away. The livid pictures that may not have faded for him. A muscle twitches in his subbled jawline.

The mercy of fading memories is probably not a thing for the Devil.

"You see, Detective, the moment I touched her body, the one she conjured for herself with my bare hands, she screamed in agony. Her skin blistered angry red, it was immediately deeply burned - my touch _tortured _her. I... I looked at my hands in shock, and also to control that I was not in my Devil form… but I was _not_! I couldn't believe it. And she cried, she flinched away, she shook….

I kept my fingers off her immediately, of course I did, and instead I tried to embrace her in my wings. To - to comfort and calm her, to heal her, if possible… but alas, it was futile. My feathers cut her, sliced her imagined skin open and I was _unable _to prevent it, as much as I willed my feathers to be s-soft…."

Lucifer's voice wavers and breaks. "Needless to say that she was back in her Hell loop in an instant - ironically, I had now even become part of it: The merciless, unforgiving God who gave her false hope, the deceiver who uses her trust to punish her _even more…._"

He stands stiff and upright, a black and white sentinel. His eyes are huge, black orbs filled with eons of darkness, of self-loathing. She can see his cheeks glistening in his stony face.

He does not notice it.

"I learned a bitter lesson that day. That I was neither able nor worthy to touch anyone in Hell, except for torture. My touch was always torture. Always, except for one strange exception," he scoffs, "It- it was _not _when the touches were associated with - sex." He laughs bitterly, without humor. "_That_ was safe. With lust, I could touch. And only then."

"You see, it did not matter when it was a rebellious demon, or a soul that deserved punishment, like Amira's priest Uncle, when he finally made his way downstairs. He reeked so spectacularly of accumulated guilt that I knew he had arrived, even before Courgarr and Maze, who were in charge of the newbies that day, announced his arrival!"

Lucifer's voice is a deep, dark, dangerous earthquake that resonates with the ocean. A dark mighty shadow rises in the thickened air that chills her to the bone.

"I gave him a warm, _warm_ welcome! He was the first whom I deeply enjoyed torturing, practicing my new-found... _insights_," he growls. The beach shore beneath her feet seems to shake, resonating with the Devils' anger.

"Believe me when I say, Detective, that I put them to good use with him! Finally, I lived up to my reputation." Then his voice falters into a whisper, desperate. "That is… what I am. Detective, I _am _the Devil!"

Sadness rolls off him in pulsing waves, a looming tide that threatens to swallows her alive. All she can do is shake her head and reach out for him.

But he doesn't let her touch him.

"So, I learned my lesson. No compassion in Hell, not even for the innocent. Not from _me_, that is. Maybe an Angel would have been allowed to show compassion, but not I, the Devil. All I had become, all I was allowed to be, was the fear, the horror, the monster in the dark! Samael, God's poison! His plan for me from day one, engraved in my name" His voice grows, he nearly roars in anger. "That is why I rejected HIS name for me, that is why I choose my own!"

When Lucifer takes a shuddering breath, the spell is broken. His voice hitches, then it breaks in a single sob.

No pained sound escapes him after that, she can only see his breast heave up and down as he gulps in air as if he's come up from a dive.

"Only very occasionally was I the one who was allowed to bring light to an innocent soul who ended up wrong. Over the centuries, I became _good _at breaking their loops - without ever touching anyone. Sometimes, it was very hard to prevent them from touching me, in particular the little ones, mind you… They always had this strong desire to be touched, to be comforted. And usually, I love to fulfil desires so much, you may say I'm _designed _for it… by Him." His voice trembles and breaks, trails off.

She listens, shivering, panting, horror-struck to her innermost core. It is not just all these Hellish revelations that shake her, no. She cannot even begin to _fathom _what it must have been like for him.

That all compassion was forcefully weeded out of him, that he was not allowed to act on it when he felt it. What miracle is this man, Angel, that he's not a complete sadist by now, but the caring being she has come to know over the last years? And he calls _her _a miracle…?

During the last days, thinking deeply about him, analyzing all he'd said and done over and over with her newfound knowledge, had told her one thing: That providing pleasure, giving out favours and fulfilling desires is his destiny, is part of his calling, his _being_. If there is _one _thing that gets him going, it's fulfilling desires.

And then - to resist his own calling, to go against his very nature and _refrain _from fulfilling the desire of comforting, is probably the most evil torture that can be conceived, for him. It explains so much about his strange behaviour with regard to non-sexual, comforting touches or hugs - in particular when it concerns children!

Unaware of the cold fingers that grip her heart, Lucifer continues, matter-of-factly. "Mostly, those few souls who ended up wrong in Hell were children at the age of Amira, give or take a few years, who could easily be persuaded of their - usually nonexistent or insignificant - guilt during their life times."

His voice drops again to a dangerous growl that thickens the air, shakes each molecule around her. His black eyes are huge, unblinking pits of rage with looming hell flames in their depths.

He starts to laugh like a maniac, the coughs and splutters as if he's inhaled ash. "I made sure that those who were responsible for such atrocities got their due when they ended up in Hell," he croaks.

"Often enough, over the last 1000 Earth years - for example during the time of the witch hunts and church-blessed killings - I got _boatloads _of women but also young men downstairs, who had done nothing wrong, who had simply been tortured into _feeling _guilty, who had been tortured by sexually pent-up clericals until they forgot their own name and confessed to any nonsense these cleric hypocrites would demand; ironically they often felt guilty for confessing to some bullshit like 'having had intercourse with the Devil'. If only they had…! I always make people _enjoy _what we do, not feel guilty!"

She begins to understand the enormity of what he had seen, witnessed, what he had come to carry around on his shoulders over the millennia. How, _how on Earth_ could this… vilified divine creature still be the effervescent life-loving personality he usually is? _How?_

"Or poor people who had just been left with the choice between Scylla and Charybdis, or pest and cholera, as you say nowadays. It is one of the reasons why I absolutely _hate _scoundrels, manipulators and hypocrites who cut away other humans' free will by making them feel _guilty_!" He vibrates with emotions, and the air around them reverberates, thick like a wet shroud.

Finally, he buries his face in his hands and rubs it furiously. Then he turns towards her, hands falling down - and stares deep into her soul with his large black eyes. They glisten in the starlight with a hungry look. Hungry and… haunted, his sadness a bottomless pit of despair. Hard, dry, deserted.

"But whoever came, I was never, _ever_, able to touch or comfort them. Even with the best of intentions. The Devil obviously did not deserve that luxury. So, I ultimately expected screams when I touched. I learned to avoid these situations except for when I _intended _to harm. And I did, Detective. There is no way to talk around that fact what it is that I became. That I am." Lucifer adds, harshly, his self-loathing burning up like a hot flame. "I told you, I'm a monster. I did become a torturer." He swallows, closes his eyes.

"Since it was obviously all I was good for."

Wave on wave of epiphanies break at the shores of her overloaded heart and soul.

He does not need to explain why he is so afraid of touching children, not to her, not anymore - it is obvious. He masks it so well with all the "do not smear my suit, kid" kind of Lucifer snobbism.

She's always sensed that there is more to it than what meets the eye, only that she has never expected… _this_.

Millennia of conditioning, of not being allowed to touch a soul emphatically, living or dead! Never for the joy of it, never for connecting... No wonder he goes all rigid the moment someone like Ella hugs him, Chloe thinks. He's probably _conditioned _to imagine Ella, whom she knows he loves like a sister, to bounce back and scream in pain once she touches him!

Her brain spins as she tries to grasp the utter horror of his existence in Hell.

She remembers how he has shuddered under her fingertips when she has straightened his mangled wings. The cute needy melodious sounds he has made. Her heart bursts with emotions for him, sadness, empathy and anger rolling her stomach into a tight knot! How, how, on _Earth _could a benevolent God cast his own son into this nightmare? For eons!

She swears a silent oath to herself that she's going to spent her lifetime on dismantling this deeply ingrained fear, on tackling his PTSD. She's going to be the fresh rainy spring in his immense desert of touch deprivation that he carries around inside himself.

Chloe, another name for 'Demeter'.

Only now she understand the full meaning of her own name. She will make him embrace and enjoy all the little affectionate touches that are... a human right, she thinks. Is it not?

So, she'd better get going.

She steps closer, smiles up at him through her tears with quivering lips. She wraps her arms around his waist in a ironclad grip and buries her face in his shirt while she sobs silently, for him, for the little lost soul that might have been her daughter, and for all the souls that ended up wrongly in Hell.

Of course he freezes briefly when she embraces him, as he so often does when he's unprepared. As he is, now. Unprepared, wrapped up in his memories. It makes her even cry harder.

She holds on tight until he allows his arms to sneak around her, tentatively, trembling, pressing her carefully closer to him.

Now, finally, she understands. It shatters her heart into tiny pieces.

"You… you... are crying... because of the little soul, aren't you, Detective…?" he asks softly and places his lips reverently on her hair. And how huge it is, even that tiny gesture. To show her affection, just for connecting to her.

How much must he want this, this connection to her, that he braves his deeply ingrained PTSD fears every so often when they work together, for her.

It is painfully clear to her that he does not understand the real reason why she cries. That he has no idea that it is because of _him_.

Because… he's sure that he doesn't deserve compassion.

Neither to give it, nor to receive it.

"I am sorry that I have upset you with my… story," he murmurs into her hair. "My deepest apologies, Detective."

"N-no, L-Lucifer," she gulps, "I'm crying... because of you..." Her breath hitches and stutters in her chest while she inhales shakily. She struggles to compose herself.

"_Me…?" _He shakes his head in disbelief and before she can elaborate, he continues along the path he's made out to be the cause of her distress.

"Sadly, the story does not have a fulfilling happy end, Detective, but I managed to get her out of Hell, eventually. Unfortunately, after the… discovery of my physical restrictions on the Hellish plane, I was unable to break her Hell loop, to have her soul enter Heaven and see her mother again."

He sighs. "You should know that Amira's father died soon after her, due to grief," he told her. "He did never learn the background of his daughter's untimely death, hence fortunately, he did not blame himself and went to Heaven. He was convinced that Amira's death was an accident; and that his brother in law was a scumbag, vilifying her name," Lucifer continues, clearly aiming at distracting her with the continuation of his story.

And he succeeds, good as he is in storytelling. "Soon after Amira's death, the region around Sumìr, which was the first urban centre in Mesopotamia by the way, got a lot of more rainfall and her people attributed that to Amira's sacrifice, clearing her name post-hum. Sadly, too late for the little soul to find peace," he breathes.

"And her Uncle, the scumbag?" Chloe asks. She cannot help herself but she wants to hear how Lucifer got him in the end. She wonders briefly if that makes her evil?

"Oh, he got a taste of his own medicine, even during his lifetime, lest his death," Lucifer chuckles darkly. "He was not believed in his ramblings that the girl had seduced him and severely lost power in the ranks of the temple. In the end, he was just allowed to do the cleaning in the temple area. He started drinking heavily - yes, they knew how to make wine already - which ultimately killed him: Ironically, he fell down from the same walls the girl had used for her suicide while utterly drunk, slipping on his own vomit. And in HIS case, people ironically believed that he had actually _committed _suicide and fed his corpse to the crows."

When she hears his dark, wild rumbling laughter under hear ear she becomes aware that she's still in his arms. She feels so at home, it's her right place, being with him. Even if he's sometimes back at being the wild untamed Devil, Satan, Lord of Hell.

She knows now what lies beneath.

Lucifer becomes serious again quickly. Sadness rolls off him in waves, she can feel it.

"Towards the little soul. Well, after I screwed up breaking her loop, I employed the last resort there is to get a soul out of Hell. The demons had already become uneasy and agitated by the _anomaly _that was her soul, because it severely lacked the proper real-guilt stench that guides demons in their, well, _job_. They had even started to discuss what to _do _with her soul and I couldn't let them… anyway."

He hesitates and she can suddenly feel his tender lips rest on her hair as if he's drawing courage from their touch.

Maybe he is.

"Are you… are you _sure _you want to hear all of this, _C-Chloe_?" he asks, suddenly sounding small and unsure again, morphing from Mighty Lord of Hell to scared Lucifer-her-best-friend in the blink of an eye.

She nods vigorously and hugs herself closer to him, snuggling her face into his chest. His radiating warmth is like sunshine, overcoming the wetness of his shirt where her head has rested. She can even see the mist of her tears rise from his shirt - he is too hot to not evaporate the liquid into the cool air. It vanishes like smoke and mirrors.

He sighs. "Very well, as you wish, Detective. You see, souls that are too… _damaged _by what they have been through in life, or too young to have grown into humans able to exercise their free will, can always enter the rebirth cycle. If they do, the souls loose all perception of who they were in their former life, until only their very character essence… (he inserts the melodious word) finally remains and moves on." She shivers.

"On the Plains of Passage that the souls have to cross after their death, you lot called it purgatory which are the planes that can lead either to Hell or Heaven, there is peaceful resting place that only Angels can enter, not Demons. Well, and the Devil, obviously."

Her heart sinks when she hears how he puts himself outside of the category of "Angels" again.

"It is like a clear fountain of fresh water, surrounded by lush, green vegetation - the stunning equivalent of spring, of new beginnings. Maybe it's the source of the human myth of the fountain of neverending youth," he muses, "only that there is no other way of becoming young again than by being re-born." He makes a tiny amused sound but his mood remains sad and ancient.

"So, I entered Amira's cell during a phase in her loop where she started to trust me, the Me she had integrated into her nightmares. Of course I could not touch her, but there was one power left to me that I used. I stepped in front of the image she had conjured of me and unfurled my wings, which effectively blocks the conjured surroundings for a short time. I - I started to sing to her. That was one of the few things Hell was unable to weed from me… the music that was in me.

When I brought down instruments from my short tours to the Earthly planes, they soon were out of tune or crumbled. But… I kept my voice." He sighs deeply. "I lulled her into safety with my music until the little soul entered the memory-erasing final sleep of forgetfulness. It shaped her soul into the set-back metamorphosis state for re-birth."

His voice is a soft murmur in his chest under her cheek. Her eyes well up again, this time for the little soul and she tires to suppress a sob. She cannot help it but think of Trixie as her empathy wells up for a girl that has now been dead more than 10,000 years.

"Finally, I was able to tuck the little ball of pure, white life energy that was her memory-stripped soul under my wings and carry her to the Plains of Passage, to The Fountain." His voice is rough and raspy around the edges.

She lifts her head and sees how he closes his eyes in pain before he continues. She guesses that it is not the fate of Amira that causes his distress. And indeed it isn't.

"I… prayed to my sister, Azrael, Angel of death, to come and take her and accompany her back into rebirth." Lucifer has a hard time to admit that he has asked for help, she thinks. "I was not sure if she would hear me, because since my Fall, all I had gotten from Above was a roaring silence when I tried to reach anyone by prayer. Deaf on all frequencies. Well, in the end, I had come to expect nothing less," he adds.

She can hear the hopelessness in his voice, the conviction that neglect was all he deserved.

"I mused that Rae-Rae would only come when... there was no danger of meeting me." His voice loses all colour, becomes ashen. "She… did probably not want to meet the brother she'd once looked up to who'd then become… the Devil."

She looks up and sees him staring over the Pacific ocean. Then he smiles sadly down on her, takes his handkerchief from the breast pocket of his own jacket that she still wears, and gently dries her face in the same soft, dabbing movements that his wing shoulder formerly employed on her cheek.

It sends a warm glowing déjà-vu rushing through her veins. She smiles up to him through the haze of her swirling emotions.

"The next time I visited The Fountain and the little green nest where I had placed Amira's sparkling little soul, it was empty. My sister had taken her and guided her towards a new life on Earth."

A moment of silence passes between them. The darkness at the horizon subtly shifts into a aquamarine blue. The new day is approaching and she's not sure if she yearns for it or loathes its arrival.

"And so, everything was as good. Or as good as it could be, under the given circumstances." He nods and sighs.

The silence stretches between them, broken only by her occasional sniffles and the stupid unnerving hiccup that she cannot get rid of after crying.

He clears his throat again.

"Later on, I had reason to believe that her soul had been reborn into a thriving bronze-age society where women had a high status that was not defined by men." He interprets her questioningly raised eyebrows correctly and explains.

"I think nowadays, the society who developed on the greek islands of Lesbos and Thíra, which is Santorín today, was named 'Amazons'".

Chloe's eyes go wide, but before she can ask he continues. "Mind you, _that _particular piece of testosterone-heavy mythology was made up much later. It was mostly ridiculous male fantasy, generously seasoned with bullshit and _not _what their society really was like!" He scoffs. "Imagine, _one-breasted warrior women _who mutilate themselves to be better able to pull a bowstring. Ridiculous! They knew better than that! It was just that _both _genders were trained in all skills, reading, writing, weaving, music, self-defense, close-combat and weaponry skills."

"Anyway, if I'm not mistaken, the little soul had become a skilled, exceptional defender for those who were unable to stand up for themselves, with words and weapons alike."

"You don't know for sure…?" she asks hesitantly.

"Well, you must consider that I got most of the information from culprits that went to my domain who had faced her during their lives…." He sighs with a kind of finality.

"I - I never encountered her soul again," he finishes quietly.

She cannot tell if his voice sounds sad or relieved. _Both_, she thinks.

A swelling tide of tenderness floods her, for him, her broken friend, the Devil. She straightens herself up from his chest and peers into his liquid brown eyes.

Before he can even begin to doubt or withdraw into his shell, she reaches out. "Come with me," she whispers.

She takes his hand and leads him to the closest boulder, never breaking eye contact. "Sit down, my love," she murmurs with all the tenderness she feels. Surprisingly he obeys, his lips half-opened, eyes large and full of wonder.

She takes her time to approach him. She slowly frames his face, places her hands left and right on his cheeks to ground them both, savouring his rough stubble under her fingertips. He shivers, his lips tremble. A small pained sound escapes him that could be mistaken for a moan if she didn't know better, finally.

After a moment of hesitation, he takes a leap and turns his face into her touch. Hungry for more.

"Lucifer," she whispers. "Close your eyes. Feel me. All of me. Feel how I touch you. And now… give me your hand. Keep your eyes closed. Here. That's my cheek... now your fingertips, that's my lips. Can you feel me?" ...see, love? Nothing bad happens, promise." He starts to pant heavily, maybe he's wrangling a panic attack. But then, he lets out the little melodious outcry that he's made when she sorted out is mangled wings. It pierces her heart.

She lowers her face to his and kisses his closed eyes. Little tremors run through him, shake his frame. "See? I enjoy touching you, kissing you, so much. Just like that… not- not just for sex. Or sex later, another day..." She lets her fingers trace his features, lets her fingertips kiss his lips. Takes his hands, one by one, and lets him do the same to her face. To her arms. Then she guides his warm arms to her back, under her shirt to have him pull her close.

"I- I touch you because I want to, and I love it when you touch me. Just- just like that. You- you don't burn me, see?"

"C-Chloe…" it sounds like a cry for help. His breathing becomes more ragged by the second.

She can see how his physical form wavers as he loses control. Red leathery skin emerges, red-golden sparkles criss-cross over his features, dance behind his closed eyes.

He must feel it because he gives a pained sound, like a trapped wild animal, and tries to withdraw from her.

"Ssssh… no, no, Lucifer. Don't be afraid," she whispers, "let it come, let it all out. I'm here for you, see?" She brushes his forehead with her lips. "Your face is a part of you. But the important thing is, it can't harm us, you and me. Remember? It doesn't affect me."

She slowly kisses the wetness on his right leathery cheek, traces the red burnt ridges and scars of his other face with her fingers, caresses every inch of him that she can reach.

He bows his head to hide, but she won't have it. She gently puts a finger under his chin to lift it up.

"See?" she murmurs, again and again, while she touches him. Then she takes his red hand to have him touch her tenderly. "See? No screams, no fear. I promise. Honesty deal, remember?"

She does not know where her words come from, but they come like rain and she has to speak them. Knowing as she does that they are healing.

She pulls his head and upper body to her chest to rest there and she cannot always tell if she feels dark curls or if he's red smooth hotness, it seems to alternate - and she doesn't care.

She feels how he shakes and cries in her embrace without the slightest sound.

Eons of lonely practice.

After a while, she coaxes softly.

"Hey, out with them," entwining his red fingers with hers, "let them join the party…They are also who you are, you know?"

She hears the humming music engulf her as his wings appear, peeking over his shoulders. They approach her like a pair of shy, hesitant does. She takes care not to startle them, coaxing them into dance while pressing her other palm to his red leathery face.

The rainfall sets in and swells to a thunderstorm, pouring down and moistening the eons-long buried seeds in the Devil's Desert.

On the horizon, over the endless Pacific, the first light of the new day chases the darkness. The first blackbird starts to sing and she can hear the chattering joy of the school of dolphins from the sea.

"Lucifer?" she finally asks, dreamily, as she kisses the little curly hair at the nape of his neck that has reappeared now that the thunderstorm has waned. He slowly straightens up, looks into her soul and puts her right palm gently to his stubbled cheek. He exhales deeply as her hand touches him.

"Yes, my love?" he whispers, barely audible, turning his face into her palm, with a barely constrained hunger that speaks for itself. He even has the courage to hold her hand there, press it to his face.

"I-I know that you are not good at describing your emotions. But… I would like to know how you feel… what this… between us… is, to you." She gestures between them. "Can- can you try?"

"I- I don't know how to… what this… I've never felt… Chloe. It- It's as if something breaks, cracks open and- and grows, and yet… I just want to stay in this moment, with you…. I.."

She remembers, the funeral. Synesthesia, music.

"Just sing it," she says.

She smiles into his eyes, rubs the tears from her own face, only now noticing that they are there.

To her surprise, he obliges, gets up, his eyes sinking into hers. For a few unheard beats, he sways on the spot, then he starts, first hoarsely, croaking.

With every note, his warm, vibrant voice intensifies. He modifies the lyrics as he sings. His wings seem to conjure the choir in her soul.

Oh. Leonard Cohen...

_I know there was a secret chord, _

_that David played, and it pleased the Lord,_

_and now I see that you care for music, do you?"_

"Yes, _your _music," she whispers and he smiles at her.

"_Well it goes like this,_

_The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift,_

_For you, Hell's king composing Hallelujah… _

She hums the refrain with him and she feels more Hallelujah than she's ever felt. Like Cohen had intended: Not the glorious Hallelujah, no. Rather the twisted, the one that is broken but is still _Hallelujah_.

His voice gains in strength and confidence. He focuses his large black eyes on her, unblinking. They sparkle golden as he regards her.

"_Your soul is strong, but you needed proof,_

_I saw you smiling on that roof,_

_Your beauty, love and grace there overthrew me,_

_You tie me to the earthly planes,_

_You break my throne and you cut my chains,_

_For you, Hell's King's composing Hallelujah…"_

They hum the "Hallelujah" silently together as the first blackbird joins in, than another, than the entire bird world awakens.

"_My Love, I have been here before,_

_I've seen this plane and I've walked this floor,_

_I used to be alone before I knew ya,_

_I've seen your soul shine through the dark,_

_but love is not my practiced spark,_

_All I've got's a broken Hallelujah..."_

"_I _know _that there's a God above,_

_But all I've ever learned from his love_

_was how to fight Hell's darkness that outdrew me,_

_Its mine, the cry that you hear at night,_

_The Devil has not seen the light,_

_All he can sing's a broken Hallelujah…"_

Just in that moment, the sun flares up at the horizon, the darkness recedes and the world is glossed in colour.

It is her who drives him home in her car; it is her who tucks him into his large bed with the black silken sheets. Then, and only then, does she allow her own exhaustion to overwhelm her.

She sinks into the black sheets next to him, holding him close, uncaring what form he may take. "Close" is the important word, she thinks. The healing word.

The last conscious thoughts she has when she draws the sheets around them both is Mark Twain's ancient poem. Maybe she's going to make it her life assignment.

_Who in two millennia has ever had the common decency to pray for the one who needed it most? Who has ever prayed for Satan?_

I have, and I do, she thinks. And I will make sure that I'm not the only one. I will make sure that you learn that you are loved, Lucifer, that you are wanted and needed here, here with me, with us. I will not stop, never, as long as I live.

And maybe - beyond. Who knows.

Finally his warmth and closeness pulls her into the first relaxing slumber in weeks.

They drift off together, arms, legs and wings entangled into each other as the first rays of the sun bathe the antique Assyrian wall.


End file.
